


Everything got shattered in the dark

by twelvetrop



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Private Investigators, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Murder Mystery, Rivalry, Slow Burn, angst hole babey!, i'm not that good of a writer but i'm going to try guys I really am, maybe to lovers you'll have to read to find out, plot is going to be really important! romance might take a second stage, this was basically a fever dream inspired by Veronica Mars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-09-01 13:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvetrop/pseuds/twelvetrop
Summary: Being a Private Investigator isn't easy - Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta know this better than most people. Forming separate agencies in that same career path created a wild rivalry that had them clawing for cases.All of that is thrown out the window when they're basically forced to cooperate on an investigation together... Could something develop between the two, or will the sinister twists and turns of the case drive them even further apart?





	1. Verum

**Author's Note:**

> please bear with me, this chapter is long but i'm setting up a lot of things, okay?
> 
> title from "Molecules" by Hayley Kyoko

Amy Santiago yawned and stretched her arms, watching the number on the top right corner of the elevator doors go up. She sipped on her coffee, cursing herself - for the thousandth time - for always having to wake up so early to go to work. She then reminded herself why she was like that – her motto was basically “too prepared isn’t prepared enough”, and she took that to the letter. Maybe it was intimidating to some people, but she didn’t care.

She looked at herself in the mirror that the elevator provided: her hair was already in its usual ponytail, her pantsuit the usual dark blue colour. Underneath, she wore a white button down, slightly in show as she hadn’t tied up all the buttons on her jacket. Amy looked closer into the mirror, checking for flaws on her makeup. She smiled, realising everything was perfect.

When the doors opened, she stepped into the long and narrow corridor where her cramped office was located. There were five other offices, the doors spread through the dull green carpet and even duller brown walls, with dim lamps that illuminated her path to the end of the hallway. It was almost a depressing walk of shame to a job she was so fond of.

But it wasn’t like New York was going to get cheaper anytime soon, so crappy hallways and cramped offices had to be enough.

Amy finally reached her door, which had an opaque glass frame, savouring her hard work when she’d designed her logo and had it printed. It read “Santiago Inquiries”, with an hourglass over part of the logo to make it looked like it was zoomed in. She liked it quite a lot – it was simple, it drew out people’s eyes and the font was nothing short of appealing.

Sliding her hand across it, feeling nothing but the glass, she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself, on how far she had gotten. Life as a Private Investigator wasn’t easy, but she thoroughly enjoyed it.

That feeling dissipated when the elevator dinged again, and someone came rushing out of it. Someone she knew too well for her liking.

He was in his usual morning gloom, coffee cup in hand, walking as fast as he could to his office to probably nap or buy things he couldn’t afford. He was wearing the usual plaid shirt and leather jacket combo, his brown hair clearly not brushed since he had awoken. Unfortunately for her, the place where he worked was right across from her: the last door of the hallway on the left.

She rolled her eyes and started the search for her keys in her pockets.

“Morning.” He said.

“Morning.” Amy replied. “You know, if you wanted, you could set up your office hours for later, right?”

“And let you beat me in something?” He scoffed. “Please.”

She groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do than get on my nerves?”

He gave her a coy grin. “That’s my favourite pastime, though!”

The man was none other than Jake Peralta which, for all intents and purposes, was the bane of her existence.

He started his agency exactly as the same time as her and called it “Peralta Solutions”. She almost gagged when she heard that name now, thinking of all the times he’d screwed her over. His door was similar to hers, albeit his logo was far more faded and worn than Amy’s clean and kept one (she made sure that it was properly glued and painted over it every week just so it wouldn’t degrade). The font he chose for it was awful, resembling something of the likes of Comic Sans, with “Peralta” written normally and “SOLUTIONS” with a much bigger size and below his name. It was a mess, to say the least, much like he was.

Yet, Jake was still her biggest competition in the area, bar none. He stole clients from her, he got his claws in cases from people she had never even heard of and he was fast at solving things, too. He was so obsessed with helping people, Amy often wondered why he wasn’t a cop.

Her mind was brought to the present when Jake snapped his fingers in front of her.

“Earth to Santiago? Are you there?” He asked, the grin still on his face.

She blinked a few times, crossed her arms and did her best attempt at an intimidating glance. “What do you want, Peralta?”

“How’s the Johnson case?”

The intimidating glance wasn’t fake now. “How do you know about the Johnson case?”

He raised his hands in the air, in a motion of surrender. Amy saw that he was wearing his key ring on his right index finger. “Woah, calm down. You told me about it two nights ago, remember?”

She relaxed almost immediately. “Sorry, I forgot.” She smirked. “I always try to forget our nights at Shaw’s.”

Jake put his key hand on his heart. “You wound me, madame!”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get back to our jobs.”

“But…” He started.

She unlocked the door to her office and, with her back turned to him, she sighed. “Your hunch was right.”

She slammed the door shut with her foot before she could hear his celebratory yell. Amy still heard it, dampened by the wood between them, and found herself smiling at his childish ways, before strolling on over to her desk.

* * *

“Here is all the information I could find on your son’s wife, Mr. Johnson.” Amy handed the light brown folder to the older man in front of her.

He picked it up with calloused fingers and scrolled through it a few times, before thanking her for her work. She nodded, shook his hand and he disappeared through her front door.

Amy looked at the check he’d dropped on her table and sighed. It was another check from some rich dude she was vaguely aware of, trying to find dirt on someone he thought was unworthy of his son. The spouse (named Monica Johnson now) was regularly attending AA meetings (as Jake’s drunken mind had advised her on), but she wasn’t an alcoholic anymore.

She hoped everything would turn out alright for Monica.

As for herself, the money she got from him was probably going to be able to last her this week, so she was glad that financial concern was out of the way.

She looked at the layout of her office, and nearly frowned. It was kept clean, of course, but it was still small, and it was due an upgrade. A few nights ago, in her apartment, she’d started to look for other office spaces, but her clients couldn’t ever provide her the financial security for a room improvement. This made her immediately close the tabs she had setup on her laptop and drove her to smoke in shame.

Where she was right now was okay. It was a rectangle, no more than fifteen feet wide and thirteen across. Her desk was on the leftmost side, up against a small window. She had her desk facing against it, usually casting her in shadow to her customers, making it seem like she was a silhouette. Amy thought that was smart, but Jake had mocked her relentlessly when she had confessed it to him once, years ago.

There was a small safe underneath her desk, home to some of her most precious belongings – her gun and Private Investigator badge were always tucked in there when she stayed at the office, as well as a plethora of tools that helped her: some sound bugs, some lockpicks, some spy cameras. Everything had cost her a lot, but on the long term, it was worth it.

The rest of the office were shelves and tall archives, filled with books and files, respectively. She still knew where Case #1 was (archive right near the door, the lowest drawer. Cheating spouse), and that sense of organization had never left her, even as she was getting older.

Someone knocked on her door, forcing her to stop assessing her life.

“Bagel?” Jake asked, holding onto two paper bags.

“Are you going to try and make me eat another bug?” She asked, but gestured for him to sit in one of the two small chairs in front of her desk. He took the invitation gladly.

“Okay, first of all,” He set one of the bags in front of her. “That was one time. Second of all, I wouldn’t do that to bagels.”

“Secondly.” Amy corrected him, and picked up her bag.

“What?” Jake was halfway through a bite.

“You should’ve said ‘secondly’, not ‘second of all’.” She grimaced. “Also, that’s disgusting.”

“Come on, Santiago, we’ve known each other for years.” He talked with his mouth full. “You know that I can’t ever change my ways.”

She rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Amy took a bite of her bagel and was surprised at its sweetness. Her face must have betrayed her, because Jake gave her another grin.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s practically drowning in sugar, Jake.” She didn’t stop eating it, though. “What the fuck did you order?”

“Isn’t it a bit too early to swear?”

“Isn’t it a bit too early for this ridiculous amount of sugar?”

“Touché.”

Jake had already gulped the whole thing by this point, and she finished soon after. After stretching her arms again and feeling a pop on her shoulder (she should probably do some stretching before leaving her house, she thought, seeing as her back was hurting more than usual), Amy cupped her face in her hands.

Jake looked at her, a curious look dotting his face.

“Are you having fun staring at me?” He teased. “I know I’m attractive, but you don’t have to make it that obvious.”

Amy ignored him. “What do you want, Peralta?”

“Can’t I just enjoy time with my friend?” He pouted.

“We’re not friends, Jake.” Amy stated, flatly. “We talk together sometimes because of our professions, but that’s it.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Jake looked offended, but his eyes betrayed him – he knew she was telling the truth.

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about you, you don’t know anything about me.” She scratched her cheek. “I intend to keep it that way.”

“Why’s that?” He was cleaning his hands and mouth on the paper bag. Amy almost puked.

“The less I know about you, the easier it is to destroy you.”

A cold smile crept across her face, and, if she didn’t know any better, she swore she saw his expression darken subtly. That feeling was soon replaced by a cold smile of his own, freezing the room.

It was true that they weren’t friends, even if sometimes they got drunk together at a bar or had mid-morning snacks together, as was the case. Their competitiveness often got in the way of knowing each other, for better or worse.

“Anyway, the other day I was working on this  _ awesome  _ case you’ll  _ never _ hear about, and something happened.” The tension in the air dissipated, along with some of the friendliness. All that remained was Professional Amy and Professional Jake.

Amy knew the drill by this point. He probably had broken something, or someone had robbed him, probably a misplaced bug. “You want a bug? Lockpick? Spycam?” She sighed. “You know my rental fees, Jake.”

“Bug, and yeah, I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “A favour?”

“Could I borrow it, for free?” He asked. “I’ll owe you one. No questions asked.”

“’No questions asked’?”

Jake nodded.

Amy pondered on his deal. If she was going to lend him a bug, he was probably going to damage it. Fortunately, she had a safe stash of them, so breaking one wasn’t going to be that big of a problem, especially if she gave him on of the low-end ones. And a favour from Jake, no questions asked? She knew he had really good connections, so it was almost definitely going to come in handy.

“Okay.” She said, finally. “I’ll lend you one.”

“Really?” He looked suspicious.

Amy nodded, a silent agreement coming in between them.

“Thanks.” Jake said, and waited for Amy to give it to him. She slid her chair backwards, crouched and inserted her code (4-6-8-0, randomly generated in a website. She took all the precautions possible, and changed it every week, when she tidied her office), opened her safe and grabbed one of the oldest bugs she had.

She held it out to him, and he reached for it. Jake hesitated for a second, almost as if about to change his mind, before snatching it from her hands.

“Don’t forget.” She reminded him. “You owe me a ‘no questions asked’.”

He didn’t say anything, simply leaving her office, making sure the door closed behind him.

* * *

Amy spent the rest of the morning organizing her things. She filed Cases #334 to #343 in her most recent archive, frowning when she realised it was nearly full. She was probably going to have to rent a storage space, at this point, just to make sure that she could keep her registry together.

Seeing as she had nothing better to do, she looked at the clock on top of the door. It read 11:03 AM, which meant it wasn’t time for lunch yet, but also not time for a snack. She groaned and fell into the singular armchair she bought on impulse once. It was between two shelves, almost hidden in shadow, and Amy thought of getting rid of it on more than one occasion. Still, it was extremely comfortable, and she couldn’t deny that napping on it felt great, especially because it reclined, and she could stretch her whole body. She had a set of blankets and pillows hidden away behind one of the shelves, when the solitude of her home became too much, sleeping away in the soft chair. This was a rare occurrence, though, and it happened mostly when she was drunk.

She pulled out her personal phone (she had a separate one for business, just in case), and entertained herself scrolling through other people’s lives.

Obviously, she followed Jake on all social media, both as herself and as the fake account she had created, as she never knew when he might block her (which he had, on several occasions). His latest photo was the first to appear on her feed. It was a picture of two paper bags, familiar to her as he had shared its contents a couple of hours ago.

_ Nothing like a good treat!,  _ the description read, and Amy rolled her eyes. God, he never really did change.

Her scrolling was interrupted by a loud greeting on the hallway. Curious, she tried to discern who the silhouettes were from the glass, but the opaqueness made the job impossible. One of the voices was Jake, that was for sure, but she couldn’t recognize the other.

“Jakey!” She had to glue herself to the door to hear properly. “How’s it going, bud!”

“It’s going great, Charles!” He replied, enthusiastically. “Let’s talk in my office, man.”

Soon, the door on the other side closed, and she stopped hearing the commotion. Amy knew Charles Boyle (or rather, knew  _ of  _ him ), Peralta’s best friend who also happened to be a cop. From what she could gather, they had a… unique relationship. They seemed to have an honest bond, but it didn’t stop Jake from sometimes using that bond to get info, whether it was legal or not. She didn’t scrutinize him for it, seeing as she had done things that were of the same calibre of legality.

It still wasn’t noon, but there was really nothing else to do in her office and spying on Jake had become more and more boring over the last couple of years. Amy was pretty sure he spied on her too, sometimes (the bug he had planted in a muffin really wasn’t the smartest idea on his part), but it was the nature of the job, she supposed.

Getting out of her reverie, she released her hair from her ponytail and let it fall on her shoulders. Grimacing, she thought it was about time to cut it. Long hair never really was her style, seeing as it was often impractical when she had to take photos or when the wind blew and it spread all over her face, blinding her momentarily.

Opening her door, she was surprised to see Jake about to leave his office as well. Their eyes locked, but he soon looked away. Ignoring how that made her feel, she locked the door to her office and walked back through the long corridor, not looking behind her.

* * *

The afternoon was mostly uneventful. She had lunch, alone, on a Thai place that was a few blocks away from the building she worked in. After that, she went for a walk, which she thought of as a way of digesting food faster (she knew it was a myth, but working on a full stomach often made her sleepy and, in turn, sloppy).

When she returned to her workplace, she turned on her computer and opened her spreadsheet with her finances, sighing once again when she saw that, even though the Johnson job had given her more room to breathe than usual, it still left her with little in ways of recreational activities.

Hours passed, and she scoured through all her emails, transferred her photos from the internal storage of her PC to the external drive she had bought just a couple months ago, checked if her bugs were operational, looked out the door in the vain hope of seeing someone go through it, stared at her phone, looked for storage spaces in the city and removed the dust from the plaque that read “Amy Santiago, P.I.” that was on top of her desk.

Bored out of her mind, she got up and headed to Jake’s office.

Knocking on the open door, he lifted his head up from his desk, quickly closing the file he was reading. Unlike her desk, which was hidden in the corner of the room, as far away from the door as possible, Jake’s stood right in front of his door, away from the only small window, casting shadows over every single available area. To compensate the lack of sunlight, he had a small chandelier, with a lightbulb that, when turned on, was so bright she thought it was the sun sometimes. The rest of his office was less of a mess than she thought it’d be, most likely because Charles had been there earlier. He didn’t have any shelves with books on them, not even trying to play up the façade that he was an intellectual mastermind. Instead, he had brightly coloured archives, all the colours of the rainbow represented, opposing her single-coloured dark grey ones. Small objects littered the room, placed in seemingly random locations: a Rubik’s cube on top of the green archive, a statue of Lady Justice leaning to one side (no doubt because one of her legs was broken) on top of his desk, a half-opened drawer with papers spilling out of it, the list went on and on. The only thing that seemed even somewhat organized was his own wooden plaque with golden letters, reading “Jake Peralta, P.I.”, identical to hers in everything but the name.

Amy wasn’t annoyed by this constant state of clutter anymore, but when she first stepped into his office all those years ago, she bit her tongue as to not yell at him.

“What’s up, Santiago?” Jake looked at her, and invited her to sit down in one of the chairs in front of him. It almost felt like a repeat of the morning.

“Literally nothing.” She replied, putting her feet on top of his desk. He grimaced, but she ignored it. “I’m bored out of my mind and I have no new clients.”

“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to your phone?” He tapped his black fixed phone, a landline that was identical to hers. “You never know when someone might call.”

“I can hear it from here.” Amy was trying to get on his nerves now. “So, what are you working on?”

“Why should I tell you?” Jake shot a look at her. “We’re not buddies, Amy.”

“Yeah, but I’m bored, and I know you  _ love  _ to gloat about your intellect.”

“Aren’t you just going to steal my case?” Suspicion flared across his face, and Amy rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Peralta. We made a deal back in 2010 we’d never steal  _ ongoing _ cases. I thought you knew me better than that.”

His face turned softer, and he seemed to relax. “Right.” Jake gave her a grin. “Was that the first time we hung out at Shaw’s?”

“Oh, God.” She picked up his statue of Lady Justice, and let it dangle on her hand, making it sway from side to side. “You mention that night one more time and I  _ will  _ break her other leg.”

“Leave Jenny alone!” Jake pleaded.

“Jenny? Really?” She grabbed the statue firmly now, as a way of saying  _ ‘I’m not actually going to break it, relax.’ _

Jake let out a breath. “What else was I supposed to call her?”

“Lady Justice?” Amy suggested.

“Huh.” He scratched his hair, still wild and unbrushed. “I never thought of that.”

Amy rolled her eyes again. “So, are you going to tell me about the case you’re working on or not?”

“Well, if you could  _ kindly _ remove your boots off my desk, I’ll consider it.”

She puffed exaggeratedly. “All right.”

Amy removed her feet from the wooden table and did her best impersonation of a desperate client. “Please, Mr. Peralta, tell me you found my daughter!”

“Is that a southern accent?” Jake looked oddly amused. Usually, he was the one impersonating people.

“Yeah, I was trying to go for the rich southern belle thing, it sounded wrong as soon as I said it.” She waved her hands in the air in dismissal. “But tell me about it.”

“Well, I’m not looking for someone’s daughter, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He started. “I’m tracking down a long-lost husband.”

“Oh! Pre-War or Post-War?”

“Do you think I get that many old people?” Amy shrugged, and he stared at her for a while, before continuing. “Okay, whatever. I think the guy changed his identity when he moved here to New York, though, and I have nothing.”

“Oh, so the ex-widow isn’t from the city?” Amy took a shot in the dark.

“How did you know she thought he was dead?” He looked surprised.

“Suspicion, which you just confirmed.” He balled his hands into a fist, and she ignored him. “I’m guessing she hired a different PI and he tracked him here, but because they didn’t have a lot of contacts in the city, referred her to look for people in the area who did stuff like this.”

“Uh-huh.” Jake nodded.

“So, did you try and talk to Spoll?” Amy suggested, knowing that he probably had.

He nodded again. “She’s currently unavailable.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Jake sighed. “She’s the best when it comes to disappearing, and without her, I’m basically doomed.”

They sat in silence for a while, Amy trying to see where he could go next. An idea formed in her head, and she snapped her fingers.

“The guy’s sloppy.”

“What?”

“The PI the ex-widow hired. He’s sloppy, right?”

Jake scoffed and looked at the papers spread out on his desk. “Yeah, tell me about it. There’s  _ barely  _ any investigative – wait.” He looked at her, only to catch her grinning. “How did you know that?”

“He’s hiding the husband. He found him, and he probably offered more money than the ex-widow, and he gave her a false lead.”

“So, you’re saying that he might not even  _ be _ in New York?”

Amy pondered for a while. “I don’t think so. I think that the other dude found him here, and the husband pleaded to keep his secret.”

“Why would he tell her that the person she was looking for was in New York, then? Why not, say, L.A? Hell, bring out the fucking world map, there’s a ton of places where the PI could say he was.”

She really didn’t have any logical reasoning behind her guess, but sometimes your gut was just right.

“Call it a hunch.” She managed to say.

“Fucking hell, Santiago.” He clapped his hands on the table, making Lady Justice (Jenny?) fall. “Are you going to make me drive all the way to Pittsburgh on a hunch?” He looked a bit mad at her suggestion.

“The ex-widow is from Pittsburgh?” Amy asked.

“No, she’s from Deltona.” Jake clarified. Amy gagged inwardly at the mention of Florida. “But she hired a famous PI from Pittsburgh.”

“Famous?” She raised her eyebrows.

He adjusted Jenny/Lady Justice, so it was standing (rather, leaning) on its original position. “Yeah, she thought he was a big shot investigator or something.”

Amy had an idea right then and there.

“Give me your phone.” She demanded and Jake started looking for it in his pockets. Amy slapped his arm. “Dumbass, give me your  _ landline  _ phone.”

He stopped struggling with his pants and handed her the heavy black phone. She ordered him to dial the number of the other PI, and he searched for it in his papers for a full minute, making Amy impatient beyond belief. After he finally found it, his fingers slid across the number pad and he looked expectantly at her.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. The man picked up on the fourth ring.

“Magnum Investigations.” The voice said. Amy rolled her eyes.  _ Of course he chose ‘Investigations’. _ “What can I help you with?”

“Hello? This is Carla…” Amy tried her Chicago accent. Jake gave her a thumbs up, which meant she was doing a good job. She winked at him in response.

“What can I do for you, Carla?” It sounded like he was in a busy street, but she couldn’t tell if it was New York.

“Well, you see, I was wondering if you could find some information on my… well this is kind of embarrassing.” She was really playing the part.

“I’ve seen and heard everything in my line of business, ma’am. Nothing really surprises me anymore.”

Amy resisted the urge to roll her eyes again.  _ Is this guy a walking cliché, or what? _ “Well, I was wondering if you could tell me about my soon-to-be-husband… Jacob Peralta.”

Jake raised his eyebrows and mouthed “What are you doing?”

She waved his concern away, keeping up her disguise.

“Can you tell me more about this Jacob?”

Amy set up the bait. “Well, he’s currently in New York… he’s supposed to be in meetings there, but he hasn’t answered the phone for the whole time of his stay.”

“Well, I’m in New York right now, so you’re in luck.”

_ Bingo.  _ “Oh really! That’s great!” Amy exaggerated it a tiny bit, Jake motioned for her to tone it down.

“I’ll research all I can on him, and we’ll discuss the payment after I find something?”

“Yes, of course. Just call me on this number when you know anything, okay?”

“Will do ma’am.”

“All right, bye!” She pressed the button that hung the call up and returned to her normal voice.

“God, playing the naïve wife is bound to be tiring at this point.” Jake said.

“Kind of, yeah. But what can I say,” She shrugged. “It’s effective.”

“Did you make him investigate me?”

“Yup.” She confirmed his suspicions. “Be on the lookout for someone stalking you over the next couple days,  _ fiancé _ .”

Jake sighed, letting his head drop on the desk. “You’re such an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

Amy gave him a smirk. “It’s part of the charm.”

He groaned in response, and she walked back to her office.

* * *

After catching the bus to her house (which was a bit far from the office building, about 15 minutes by car, 45 by public transport), she stepped into her house, only to be greeted by darkness and a stillness she didn’t quite enjoy anymore.

Amy supposed that a year of not dating was enough, but throwing herself out there, into the mighty pond that was the dating life, felt weird. Whether it was residual effects from her previous relationship or just downright fear, she didn’t know. It’s not like she thought about it long enough to figure it out.

Letting her messenger bag fall on the floor, she threw herself on the couch, reaching for the remote that was just a bit too far on the small wooden table she had bought from IKEA.

Grunting with effort before realising she, in fact, could not reach the remote, she decided to just change into her pyjamas and sleep, not even putting her clothes in the washer.

(She wasn’t a savage, though: she left them on the kitchen table, neatly folded and ready to be cleaned whenever she had the patience to do it which, knowing herself, was probably going to be the next night).

Covering herself with her sheets, she looked at her calendar. It was September 21 st , the first day of autumn.

_ God, I hope this new season brings change.  _ Was the last thought that drifted in her mind, before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... that's that!
> 
> I listened to the album "Turn Blue" by The Black Keys and "Puberty 2" by Mitski while writing this! Do with that what you will.
> 
> tell me what you think! I love hearing your thoughts!


	2. New Case, Same Old Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy get two very interesting visitors offering them two cases, something unlike anything they have worked on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of murder
> 
> uh, this one is fairly long as well, so bear with me.

September 24th started, and Jake already wanted to throw up. Well, maybe not literally, but getting out of bed at 7:30 AM for the third day in a row nearly broke his spirit.

A good thing about being a PI was that you had your own schedules, which meant starting office hours at decent hours, like 10 AM (well, more like 10:30, 11 if you stretched it), however, to keep up with Amy “I like mornings” Santiago, some sacrifices had to be made. Falling out of bed at an ungodly hour was out of them.

And he meant falling out of bed literally, this time. Jake always threw himself onto the floor so the pain would wake him up. Was that healthy? Probably not. Was it effective? Definitely.

While the coffee boiled in his kitchen, Jake dressed up as quickly as he could, looking into his closet for a split second longer than usual, before deciding to pick a striped plaid shirt (red and white, this time, rather than the blue combination he had worn over the past three days. No, his shirts _ didn’t _ smell, he just felt it was wise to shift it). His room was more of a mess than the previous days, no doubt because he was searching for someone stalking him.

He managed to corner the Magnum PI guy in a coffee shop the day before (his name was Henry? Jake found that odd) and drilled him for information. Amy was, frustratingly, right. He was covering for the ex-widow’s husband, cracking nearly immediately when Jake pressured him on the matter. At least it was over, and she hoped the woman would find peace.

And the check she’d given him was pretty good, too, so he had that going for him. Maybe he’d finally buy that signed football he always wanted. Only time would tell.

Hearing the familiar ding of the coffee pot, he threw the first random pair of pants on and poured himself a cup, relishing the sour taste of the beverage_ . _

_ Caffeine might be a drug, but it sure is a good tasting one _, he thought, while taking a random bowl from the cupboard to prepare himself some morning cereal.

His routine was interrupted by a loud ring from his phone. Cringing, he looked at the caller ID and picked up.

“Charles, it’s _ too early _.” He complained into the speaker.

“Yeah, I know Jakey.” The man said on the other end of the line.

“What is it?”

“I may have something that might interest you.”

Jake put the cup down, immediately alert. “Really?”

“There’s this woman here – she got robbed late last night – and she’s looking for someone who might find her things. She said it was really valuable, but then again…”

“Most victims say that. Yes, I am aware.” Jake felt a twinge of disappointment. He hadn’t gotten an exciting case in such a long time. Which, on the one hand, it was probably a good sign. Maybe the city was getting safer, maybe things were improving! Slow and steady wins the race, as the saying goes. On the other hand, though, the job had been slow. Sure, the ex-widow job had been _ fun _, but he’d already solved so many cases like it.

He supposed that if one where to do an exciting thing several times, it would lose its edge. Still, a job was a job no matter what, and they helped pay the bills (and the debt).

Charles brought him back to reality. “Anyway, I directed her to you. I told her your fake office hours, so expect her by ten, maybe?”

“Thanks man. Really appreciate it.” Jake picked up his coffee cup again, frowning when he realised it was cooling fast.

“Anytime. Love you, bye!” Charles hung up.

Jake sighed, finished his drink and headed out the door (he nearly forgot his keys, had to go to the small table in the entry hall and then really left the house).

* * *

The commute back to his place was filled with the usual traffic.

_ Same old city. _Jake thought, his mind going into automatic mode while driving. Lucky for him, he managed to find a place to park right in front of the office building, making him almost giddy. Almost.

When he reached his floor, he found Amy already struggling with her keys (he often wondered why she had so many) and the sight of her already made him annoyed. When she noticed his presence, she flashed a grin at him.

“Where’s your coffee cup?” She asked. “Doesn’t seem like you to not drink caffeine before work.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Jake said. “I had it at home.”

Amy gasped, and Jake crossed his arms. “That must be the first time you’ve done that!”

He just gave her a glare.

“Not in the mood, huh?” She raised her eyebrows.

He smiled. “Title of your sex tape.”

She rolled her eyes and finally opened her office door. “You’re so annoying.”

“You literally gave me the opportunity.”

The door closed, a loud click filling the hallway. A proud victory smile on his face, Jake started to unlock his door as well.

_ Peralta one, Santiago zero. _ He thought. _ I’m going to win the battle _ and _ the war. _

When he finally stepped into his office, the smile left his face. Papers were littering the desk, they were on top of his archive, on the floor and even duct taped to the wall. Sighing, he started cleaning his space.

* * *

His work was interrupted by a loud bang at his door. Assuming it was the woman Charles had sent to him, he yelled “In a moment!” and threw all the papers underneath his desk, making the clutter invisible to the people sitting in front of him.

He hurried towards the door, opening it with a sudden pull, and started on his welcoming speech.

“Hello, what do you need from Peralta Solu-”

“That’s how you welcome people?” The woman in front of him said. “That’s terrible Jake. We gotta work on that.”

It was none other than the one and only Gina Linetti in front of him.

“Gina!” Jake exclaimed and hugged her. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still on that cruise back in Hawaii!”

“I got kicked out.” She said, as if it was nothing special. “Bought myself a plane ticket here, and decided to check up on you.”

She was dressed fabulously, big sunglasses on her face and a large white coat that reached nearly her knees. A small black purse was on her arms, a golden zipper decorating it. Jake would’ve been surprised but, when you were rich, fabulous was your normal. The Linettis were, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the most successful families in New York, and Gina got to reap those benefits. She wasn’t cruel though – sure, she had her tendencies to criticise everything, but she was raised to have everything perfect.

“I can handle myself.” Jake said.

“Honey, the last time you said that, the office nearly caught fire.” Gina replied, stepping into the space.

“It was _ one _time!”

“That’s one time too many, Jake.”

She dropped her coat in the chair, sat in the other and propped her feet, adorned with black knee-high boots (Gucci, maybe? Jake never knew the brands), on top of his desk.

“Why is everyone obsessed with putting their feet on my desk?” He asked.

Gina raised her eyebrows. “Last I checked, I had exclusive feet-desk privileges.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t say feet-desk, you sound like Charles.” Jake pushed her feet off the desk, and Gina grumbled. “Secondly, I’m doing _ fine. _ Honestly.”

“Then what’s that mountain of paper on your feet?” She pulled her sunglasses to the rim of her nose.

“I don’t have a – I don’t need to – How do you even _ know? _” Jake stuttered, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Gina chuckled. “You’re an open book to me, sweetie. When will you learn that?”

He sunk in his chair, crossing his arms in the process. “This isn’t fair.”

“Knowing me is an experience, Jake.” She removed her sunglasses, perching them on the wooden surface. “But besides that, how’s it going?”

Jake picked up the pile of papers from underneath his desk, sitting in front of her. “It’s been slow, honestly. I mean, I guess this last case was pretty good, but I didn’t even crack it.”

“What do you mean you didn’t crack it?”

He pointed to the now closed door, and Gina understood immediately. “Amy.”

“Amy ‘I can solve anything’ Santiago.” Jake’s hand turned into fists. “Miss Goody Two-Shoes that’s making my brain-cells rot.”

“You guys are so obsessed with each other.” Gina mocked. “It’s almost like watching a sitcom where you two end up together at the end.”

Jake made a gagging sound. “Please. I would _ never _ date her.”

“She’s handsome, though.”

“Shitty personality overrides everything, Gina.”

She nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. If she’s half as bad as you say she is…” Gina looked at the door. “It’s a bullet you have to dodge.”

“I think it’s basically lodged on my shoulder. Like, permanently.”

“That’s a really weird metaphor.”

“It’s _ appropriate _.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Her expression turned serious, “Look, are you okay? Money wise?”

He waved her offer away. “I’m fine, really. I never needed to borrow your money, I won’t need now.”

“I was talking about your financial books, idiot. Like it or not, you do _ run _a business, so you have to keep things in check.”

“Why do we always have this conversation?” Jake moved the papers aside, causing the pile to fall on the floor. Gina threw him a look as if to say _ because of this _, but he ignored it. “I’ve learned my lesson years ago, man. I still have those PowerPoint slides.”

“Those are beyond outdated. God, I gotta send you new ones.” She took her phone out of her purse. “Siri, remind me to do a new presentation for Jake at six.”

Jake looked at her, thoroughly unimpressed. “Gina, come on.”

“Okay fine. But can I take a look at your books anyway?”

He groaned, dragging his hands on his face. “They’re at my place right now. Can we just… do this later? I have a client coming in any second and I have to organize this,” He gestured towards the scattered sheets on the floor. “Before they arrive.”

“Dinner at your place?” Gina suggested.

He shrugged. “Fine.”

She picked up her belongings, before walking towards the door.

“See you at 7!” She said, already on the hall.

“See you!” Jake yelled back.

He found Amy with her door slightly agape, ready to leave.

“Dating clients isn’t a good idea, Peralta.” She quipped.

He groaned and shut the door hard.

_ Alright Santiago, you win this round. _He thought.

* * *

The woman that Charles said was mugged came by at about 11 AM, knocking on his door with such fervour Jake swore he saw splinters fall on the floor. Her name was Karen (because of course) and she ranted on and on about the incompetence of the police on even filing a simple robbery report. He just checked out after a while, letting herself burn out her frustrations on him. She was clearly still shaken from the event, and venting was usually the way victims released the terror they were feeling.

Jake didn’t think this in a bad way, of course – it was just something you learned from spending years on the job, assessing scared people.

After she was done, Jake told her about his fees and, after some hesitation, she agreed to pay him. They shook hands, him promising he’d try to give her news as fast as possible. She left with the same gallivanting fury she had arrived, leaving the air feeling like it was lacking something.

He didn’t really mind the rambling victims. Filling up the space between people was his specialty, so one would expect that he’d be bothered when someone was as loud or louder than him, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He liked to hear people talk, and always hoped people liked to hear him back in return.

His thoughts were stolen away from him when someone knocked on his door again.

“Come in.” He said.

Amy stepped into his office, and Jake had to bite down the urge to curse her into oblivion.

“What do you want?” Jake asked.

“I was wondering the status update on my bug? You still haven’t returned it to me.” She replied, looking as boringly professional as ever.

“Hold on, I have it here.” He walked the short distance to his safe, hidden behind two archives.

She placed her hands on her hips. “That’s not a good hiding spot.”

“Are you here for your bug or to criticise my methods?” Jake didn’t really have the patience to deal with her today.

“Maybe criticism is something you ought to get, sometimes.” She replied, watching him unlock the metal box.

He turned around and threw the bug at her. Amy caught it in mid-air expertly.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. See you never.” Jake made his way towards his desk again.

“Unfortunately, you do owe me a ‘no questions asked’” She said, a smile creeping on her lips. “So, we’ll see each other soon, I bet.”

“Who’s going to enjoy that?” Jake sat down on his place again.

Amy’s smile vanished, replaced by a slight frown. “You’re right. I might never pull that favour from you.”

“Hopefully some god will stop our paths from crossing in the near future.” Jake let his shoulders fall on the desk. “Scratch that, never.”

“Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, too.” Amy looked annoyed? Irritated? Jake could never read her. She left his office as calmly as she had entered it, though, so he assumed that whatever her face was trying to show meant nothing.

He gave himself a point, though.

_ Peralta II – Santiago I, _ Jake wrote in sticky note.

* * *

Jake thought the rest of the day was going to be the usual uneventful affair.

He was wrong.

Dorothea Gordon stepped into his office at exactly 4:04 PM. Jake knew this because his watch broke right at the moment she knocked on her door.

“Piece of fucking garbage.” He mumbled, then looked up when a loud bang shook his office. He saw a sophisticated woman standing in front of him. She hadn’t even knocked, simply made her way inside.

Dorothea looked like she was in her early 60s, carrying herself with such importance Jake swore she looked like the most important woman on planet Earth. She was wearing a coat and skirt combo, all black, like she was out of a funeral. A pair of sunglasses was over her eyes, all black too, with a brand he couldn’t quite identify in silver at the rims. Her hair was covered with a (black) hat, but brown-grey strands of hair fell from it.

“Dorothea Gordon.” She stretched her hand.

Jake got up from his chair in the least eloquent way possible, nearly letting it fall in the process. He finally shook her hand and greeted her. “Jake Peralta.”

“I’ve heard you’re one of the best private investigators around, so I’ll cut straight to the chase.” She grabbed onto her small (black again) purse tightly. “I want you to look into my son’s murder.”

If Jake was drinking something, he’d spit it out.

“I’m – I’m sorry?” Jake stuttered.

“I want you to investigate my son’s murder.”

“Ma’am.” Jake scratched the back of his neck. “Are you sure you shouldn’t bring this to the police?”

“The police are working as hard on my son’s murder as if it was a mere robbery. He was _ special, _Mister Peralta. Whoever did this was extraordinarily cruel, and I don’t know if the NYPD is ready to take this on.”

“I uh… I happen to know a very brilliant detective, ma’am-”

“I don’t care about that.” She shook her head. “What are your fees? I’ll double them.”

Jake blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“Whatever you charge. I’ll double it. Triple it, if I have to.” Her hands were shaking now.

“Ma’am… I – I don’t know if it’s wise for me to step into a police investigation.” Jake was heavily debating taking the offer. God, what could he do with that amount of money?

“I’ll do whatever it takes to know who killed my son.” She removed her sunglasses, and he saw her reddened eyes. “I just came from his _ funeral, _and I’m not letting this go. If you say no, I will hire someone else.” She put her sunglasses back on. “It’s up to you.”

_ This is crazy. I can’t accept this. _ He thought. _ An _ ongoing _ murder investigation? Jake, you’re insane. You’re talking about people who died here. _

_ Still, it’s money you need. You’ve been barely able to pay rent in the past year, and this might just put you in a comfortable enough position. _His mind replied.

_ Are you insane? It’s a human life here. Solving murders is not something easy. You’ve never done this before. _He countered.

_ Financial security, man. _His mind said again.

He took in a deep breath and stared into the woman’s eyes, still covered by the dark shades.

“I’m not going to lie to you: I think this is a bad idea. But, if you think that police is that untrustworthy, I’ll only accept this under one condition.” He put his hands on his desk, as if to lay out all the cards. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

Her shaking hands stopped immediately, fierce determination almost flaring through her skin. “I’m as sure as I’m alive, Mister Peralta.”

Jake nodded, his face severe. “All right, Miss Gordon. You have yourself a deal.”

The woman let her right hand turn into a fist. “Thank you.”

Details were exchanged, as well as a fee for his work, before she left out the door, his tiny rectangular office acting as if nothing had changed.

* * *

After lunch, Amy spent the rest of the afternoon trying to see if her bugs and spy cams had wielded any results on her new case (a man was worried his ex-husband was coming in the middle of the night and stealing things). She saw the live feed on her laptop until her eyes hurt, hoping to God the man was dumb enough to break into her client’s place while he was at work.

No such luck followed, though, and she was left staring at the same tiny four rectangles (of the four cameras set in strategic positions around the house) on her screen, looking at the ridiculous amount of porcelain figurines that adorned the house’s shelves. Had her client made them? Had he bought them? It was a truly staggering number of them, so it was an either-or situation here, no one received _ that _ much porcelain as a gift.

And she liked that cheesy porcelain crap.

A slam made her slide her headphones from her head, curious to see if it was an angry client yelling at Jake. She paused the feed, blinked the pain out of her eyes and closed them to concentrate on hearing some form of shouting. If nothing else, it was entertaining hearing that her rival was doing a bad job. Nothing of the sort happened, though, and Amy was disappointed.

She returned to her spot behind her desk, brushing her PI plaque with her fingers before looking out the window and frowning, as the orange hues of the sun had been replaced by stormy, cloudy greys charged with water. Sighing, she realised she hadn’t brought an umbrella. Ignoring the specks of rain that hit her window, Amy sat down and returned her attention to the screen.

Some more hours passed, the laptop getting her full attention (whether it was the feed or some other things) and, when she was about to close up shop, someone knocked on her door.

Sighing, she said a “Come on in!” and tried to look not tired in front of her next potential client.

“Sorry for arriving right near closing time, Miss Santiago.” A man said, walking into her office. He seemed to be old, late 60s to early 70s, grey hairs covering his scalp. He was white and wearing a black suit and pants, with a white shirt underneath, almost as if he had come back from a fancy party. A moist black umbrella was in his right hand, which was adorned with three rings.

“It’s no problem, Mister…?” She invited him to sit down, which he accepted and sat in one of the chairs in front of her, dropping the umbrella in the other.

“Mister Holster. Allistor Holster.” He said, crossing his legs. “I was wondering if I could hire you in a… sensitive subject.”

Amy thought about what a sensitive subject he could be talking about. A mistress? No, he wasn’t married, his left hand didn’t have any rings in them. A daughter or a son? Maybe he was trying to track someone down? Well, whatever it was, he seemed wealthy, so it was bound to give a hefty reward.

“Of course, sir. Here at Santiago Inquiries, we pride ourselves in discretion.” She always made sure to say _ we _, despite working alone. The clients didn’t really press the matter.

Allistor Holster was no exception. “Good, discretion is what I’m looking for.” He looked at her straight in the eyes, causing Amy to shift in her chair unconsciously. There was something about his look that had made her uncomfortable. “I want you to investigate my son’s murder.”

Amy almost laughed. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me correctly, Miss Santiago. I want you to investigate how my dear Jason was killed.”

“Not to be prude, but,” Amy leaned forward in her chair. “Shouldn’t that be a job for the police?”

“I don’t trust the abilities of the police to solve this murder. There’s a lot of… Bad blood between my family and the NYPD, let’s say.”

_ Oh, it was one of _ those _ families. _ Amy thought. _ Still, stepping into a murder investigation? Be careful, Amy. _

“Jason was a kind soul. God knows he was nothing like his old man.” Allistor continued. “I want you to find the truth and show the police who the murderer is.”

Amy crossed her arms and squinted her eyes. The sun was nearly setting now, making her a dark shadow to the man. “Wouldn’t the police find the culprit, eventually? Sir, I know that you must be feeling terrible-”

“I’m perfectly calm.” His voice was like ice, and Amy was almost scared. “I don’t trust the NYPD, Miss Santiago. I want _ you _to handle this. I’ve talked with a few people and I’ve heard you’re quite good at your job. A murder is simply a step up, correct?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to say that it doesn’t work like that, sir.”

Allistor ignored her comment. “Plus, I’m willing to double your fee. Quadruple it, if necessary.”

Now _ that _was interesting. She thought about it, making calculations in her head for how much money she needed to rent a storage space or, hell, getting the office upgrade she sorely needed.

Still, this was an ongoing murder investigation. A person had died and interfering with police work was a nightmare – something like this was bound to be even more of a pain. And again, _ a person had died. _ What was she supposed to do?

_ Fuck it. _ She thought. _ I’ll take the job and when the police find the murderer, I’ll return the money to him. I can’t turn him down, it feels like he’ll kill me if I do. _

She started to wonder why she had to leave her gun in the safe, when she made him an offer. “Triple amount of my fees, and if I don’t get you results faster than the police, you’ll get your money back.”

Allistor looked at her for a long while, before replying. “It’s a deal.”

They shook hands and traded contacts and information, Amy promising to keep in touch. After he closed the door, she let her hands fall on the table, hard, almost as if she was trying to slap it. She let herself breakdown for a while, blasting some loud music on her laptop, trying to get her mind off the fact that she was investigating a _ murder _now.

** _Murder. Homicide. Killing. _ **God, she’d avoided being a cop because of this, and there she was again. What goes around, comes around, she supposed.

After feeling a bit more like herself, she locked her office and stared across the hall, only to find that Jake’s space was as dark as hers. He seemed to be particularly angry at her that day, and she couldn’t figure out why. She shrugged that thought out of her head, though, and just made her way home.

* * *

Jake dined with Gina in his apartment, laughing with her at some old memories. Amy dined alone, googling some storage spaces in her phone.

After they had eaten, Gina gave Jake yet another lesson in financial security (with updated slides) and he absorbed every single word she said, trying not to think of the fact he was investigating an actual homicide. Amy drank tea and saw some reruns of Jeopardy, distracting herself with the same intent as Jake.

That soon changed when both hit their mattresses (Jake’s was lumpy and uneven, Amy’s was in nearly perfect shape), and their minds were left to wander.

Neither slept well that night, crazy thoughts filling their heads, webs that seemed to be getting thicker and more nonsensical as they dwelled more and more into their own doubt.

One particular thought was crystal clear, though, and the pair had it, unaware of the other:

** _What have I gotten myself into?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh what did i set up??
> 
> i listened to a LOT of 2000's pop while listening to this so, yeah, use that information however you want.
> 
> as always, thank you les for reading my work and editing what was necessary!!
> 
> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	3. Red Thread Of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy starts her investigation on Jason Holster's murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// slight description of an execution
> 
> this one got a little out of hand from me, but I think it reads pretty well!

_ Two years ago. _

_ _

_ “I wish I had your financial security, Rosa.” Amy complained in the coffee shop. _

_ Rosa Diaz sat across the aisle, staring at her with what seemed like absolute indifference. However, for people who knew her well, she seemed concerned. _

_ “I’ve told you to join the Academy so many times, man.” She said. “You’d be an amazing detective.” _

_ Amy laughed half-heartedly, clutching the milkshake in front of her. “I think it’s too late for that.” _

_ Rosa looked at her, almost sadly. Amy was on her third milkshake now, a vain attempt at trying to seem like she was younger, more innocent. A way to go back to a time where she didn’t have to be on the constant lookout for someone,  _ anyone _ , to hire her, so she could save money and have basic human needs fulfilled. It  _ **was** _ desperate, and Amy was hitting a new low point in her life. _

_ “Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like?” She tried to reach for the colourful straw with her mouth, failing and trying again, only to succeed on the third time. Rosa would’ve laughed if it didn’t reek of desperation. _

_ “You’ve got a few ways to go, buddy.” She said. “You’ve made it this far, right?” _

_ “I could’ve gone farther…” _

_ “Don’t start with that.” Rosa said, and clasped her fist on the table. Everyone ignored the noise, mostly due to her threatening aura. “I’ll kick your ass in if you start on that tangent.” _

_ “But it’s true, isn’t it?” She sighed, ignoring the random strands of hair that had fallen on her forehead from the ponytail she’d done earlier that day. “Imagine if I was a detective now. Maybe I could be a Sergeant! Hell, a Captain! God knows I’d probably reap more benefits then from the job I’m doing right now.” _

_ “I think you’re misplacing something here.” Rosa eyed her sloppily sipped beverage, and the other two next to it. “I think this is just frustration on something. You’ve never been this down about the job.” _

_ “I just feel like I’m at the end of my rope here.” Amy said. “What if I’m never moving up from here? Forced to spy on ex-wives and ex-husbands for the rest of my fucking life.” Tears started to well up in her eyes now. _

_ “I think that… maybe you should talk to someone who’s in your field.” Rosa leaned forward on the bench. “Look, I love being a detective in the NYPD but there’s still downsides. Every job has its good moments and its shit moments. You just have to learn to embrace both sides.” _

_ Amy pondered on that for a second, trying to get to the last delicious bits of the drink. “You might be making some points.” _

_ “I know I am. I’m great.” Rosa said, and Amy rolled her eyes. She already felt a bit better, even if the insecurity was still hanging above her like a cloud. “Now let’s get out of here, I need to do some paperwork back at the 99.” She looked at Amy one more time, before speaking again. “I’ll pay for everything.” _

_ On that, Amy’s face nearly lit up like a child and, this time, Rosa rolled  _ her  _ eyes. “Really?” _

_ “God, you’re such a kid sometimes.” _

_ - _

_ Amy walked back to her office alone, as Rosa had gotten an emergency call and had to run to the precinct in a hurry. They’d waved goodbye, and Amy felt a bit of happiness go through her body, the cloud above her head getting a bit thinner. _

_ She’d never guessed that someone like Rosa Diaz would befriend her in college, but she was glad it happened. They had a surprising number of things in common (if you excluded the knives and the crosswords), and that certainly helped when they’d met. So many nights spent on caffeine and adrenaline always brought people closer together, but it was rare when those connections lasted beyond school. Amy would’ve never guessed that Rosa  _ wanted  _ to keep in touch with her but, even after all those gruelling tasks, a true bond remained. _

_ She also helped Amy out a lot because of her detective status, but that was just a benefit. _

_ When she walked back to her office, Amy found it surprising to see Jake’s door ajar. Like her, he always kept the door to his space closed, the tinted window making it impossible to discern what was going on inside. This time, though, she could see him, head resting on his hands that were on his desk. Jake wasn’t sleeping, because she could see him shuffling his head from one side to the other. _

_ Without thinking, Amy knocked on his door. He didn’t even lift his head, simply mumbling a “We’re closed” before shuffling again. _

_ “Hey.” She said, her voice gentle. “Are you okay?” _

_ At the sound of her voice, Jake lifted his head. “Oh, hi.” He hesitated for a while, before continuing. “And uh… Not really.” _

_ “Tough day?” Amy asked. _

_ “Tough life.” He replied, a mocking tone in his voice. It wasn’t genuine, though, and she could tell that. _

_ Amy thought for a while, before deciding on what to say next. “Want to hit Shaw’s?” _

_ “I don’t think I’m in the mood for Shaw’s right now.” He sighed. _

_ She sighed with him. “Thank God, me neither.” _

_ “Kind of feel like just falling into oblivion, you know?” _

_ “I feel you, Peralta. I really do.” _

_ A hesitant silence followed, Jake’s head still perched on his hands. “You can call me Jake when we’re not on duty. You know that, right?” _

_ Amy stared at his face, placed in a strange angle that would no doubt give him neck pains when he’d straighten himself. “Yeah, I guess I’ve always known that. It’s just kind of hard to not to think of you as ‘Peralta, the Rival’, sometimes.” _

_ “Well,” He lifted his head up and grimaced in pain, rubbing his neck just as she’d predicted. “I’m Jacob.” _

_ “Jacob?” Amy was amused. _

_ “Yeah, bad idea.” He looked playful now, the usual smile almost plastering his face. “Jake. Call me Jake.” _

_ She chuckled a bit. “Amy.” _

_ “Nice to meet you.” _

_ “Nice to meet you, too.” _

_ They looked at each other for a while, before the loud crash of something scared them. Amy looked at her side, only to find a toaster laying on the floor, two slices of bread burned to a crisp beside it. _

_ “MY TOAST!” Jake yelled. _

_ Amy only sighed and shook her head, the cloud above her nearly gone. _

* * *

_ September 25 _ _ th _ _ . _

It was a loud crash that made Amy leave her memory-filled haze. She almost reached for her gun in the safe, only to hear a different sound and realise that it came from her headphones. Blinking her stupidity, she focused on the screen in front of her, looking for the person that had just broken into her client’s house.

Her eyes roved through all four tiny rectangles in front of her quickly, before catching a shadow on one. Making it full screen, Amy hovered her fingers over the screenshot key, waiting to catch the person in the act.

The shadow took a clearer shape, and she realised right away it was the ex-husband her client was talking about. She never thought he’d be that stupid enough to do it in plain daylight, especially in the morning, but she was wrong. Pressing the key multiple times, she got so many clear shots of him in the middle of the deed she could paint the walls with his face if she wanted to.

After choosing a select number of pictures, she printed them out and sent an email to her client, hoping he’d now find peace in the hell that that was his household.

Rubbing her eyes and pulling her headphones out of their place, Amy undid her ponytail and looked out the window. It wasn’t as cloudy as the day before, but the sun still wasn’t visible underneath the swirling greys of the clouds.

_ Seems like adequate weather.  _ She thought, her biggest case lingering in her mind.

Amy went under the desk and fumbled with her safe, getting out her gun and badge. She paused before closing the box, taking a few bugs and spy cams with her, along with one lockpick. Just in case. After getting back up, she opened the file in front of her and read it one more time, in case she’d missed something.

**Name: Jason Elmore Gordon-Holster**

**Age: 28**

**Sex: M**

**Height: 5’9**

**Race: Caucasian**

**Eye colour: Blue**

**Hair colour: Blonde**

**Status:**

Amy hesitated while reading that line. She’d never typed out a “status” line before, even if the person she was tracking down was sick or dying. Sometimes, when she found someone who turned out to be dead, she’d feel tempted to write that status in her files. She never did it anyway.

But Jason being dead was the whole reason why she was investigating this, so a line like this was necessary, right?

Shrugging off her own questions (and fears), she got back to the file.

**Status: Deceased**

**Brief description of the inquiry: Solve his homicide and return with the murderer’s identity to the client, Allistor Holster. If conditions aren’t met, all payments will be nulled.**

**Evidence: ** _ Nothing is being said to the public, so there’s not a lot you can work with.  _ _ Figure out where the murder happened and try to get info from that precinct. _

She had written that last part by hand, hoping that it would get her to move. She was a little weak on the evidence part, sure, but it had only been a day (less than 24 hours actually) and she was working on something she’d never done before. Figuring out the precinct where Jason was murdered shouldn’t be a hard job – Allistor gave her all the details the police had released, and she had taken a note of it.

It was the hardest part to read of the whole file.

**Details of the inquiry: Jason was shot in the chest and the head, in an empty lot. It seemed like he was executed, so it’s likely someone either had a grudge or it was done by some specific mafia. ** **Research execution types.**

**Important locations: ** _ No details on the empty lot – yet. Scour around Brooklyn, you’re bound to find an active crime scene somewhere. _

**Notes: Call Allistor ASAP, to see if he knows more details. Try to**

Amy closed the small brown cover and shoved it in her messenger bag, unable to read any more of the writing. She put her gun in its strap, and the PI badge in her belt, making sure it was hidden by her jacket. Having her badge exposed made people think she was a cop, and the amount of times she had to guide a person to a precinct were too many to count.

She picked up the map she’d printed out and sighed as she looked at the itinerary. There was approximately a shit million ton of empty lots in Brooklyn only, so finding the active crime scene was bound to be hard work.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” Amy said out loud, looking at the red line that circled the roads.

“Probably existing.” Jake said, from somewhere in front of her.

He was standing in her now open doorway (he’d probably knocked earlier, Amy just hadn’t listened to him), one foot propped up against the door frame, making a four with his legs. He was wearing the same plaid shirt as the day before, but this time he had a leather jacket on. His PI badge was in chain around his neck, propped backwards, as to see only black instead of the glistening silver.

“I’m on my way out, Jake. I don’t have time for your… neediness.” She said, staring at him up and down.

He squinted his eyes. “I’m not needy!”

She placed her messenger back on top of the table, crossing her arms. “Then what about all the things I’ve loaned you?”

“Those were kind gestures.” Jake said.

“Kind gestures which you had to pay for.” Amy completed.

“Which I had to pay for.” He echoed.

Amy looked at him, a bit annoyed. “Could you please remove your feet from the wood? You’re going to contaminate it with your sneakers.”

“Contaminate? Santiago, come on. They’re not  _ that  _ dirty.” Jake looked a bit offended by the comment, but there was a playful air to his expression.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’m on my way out so…” Amy slung her messenger back over her shoulder and pushed him out of his spot. He complained loudly, but she ignored him and closed everything up.

“That was mean!” Jake rubbed his arm, the place where she had (lightly) pushed him. “You have heavy hands, Santiago.”

“Yeah, Peralta, you have the bone structure of a child so… maybe add on some weight to this.” She tried to pinch his arm over all the clothes he was wearing but failed, leaving Jake with an amused smile on his face.

“The weight on  _ that  _ is just fine, thank you very much.”

“Why do I have a feeling that the whole weight of your biceps is on gummy worms and red vines?” She was across from him, trying to see what he was working on in his office. She saw a few scattered papers here and there and what seemed like – was that a map? What was he using a  _ map _ for?

Before she could see anything else, he closed the door and stepped in front of her. “It’s also on gummy bricks, okay? You can’t just leave them out like that.”

“I’m sorry, it was never my intention to exclude them.” Amy bowed slightly. “Oh, gummy king.”

He crossed his arms. “Hilarious, Santiago.”

“I know.” She stood straight and looked at her watch. “Okay, now I  _ really  _ have to go.” Amy started walking towards the elevator.

“Don’t have sex with a subway mole man!” He shouted from his spot.

She raised her hand, showing off her car keys. “Won’t be a problem, Peralta!”

Amy heard Jake opening the door and going back inside. When the elevator arrived and she went down, Amy took out her map again, realisation dawning on her face.

_ Why does he have a map of Brooklyn on his wall? _

* * *

Amy did nearly half of her map for the rest of the morning, watching as the clouds dissipated a little and let the sun pass, giving the streets a lazy aesthetic to them, stray rays crossing the sidewalk and making the greys seem like pristine whites, the tar of the roads more intense than ever.

If it wasn’t September, she would probably be dying of heat. But autumn was fast approaching, some stores already packed with Halloween amenities, the trees just starting to lose some of their green. The branches swayed with the wind the Hudson brought and she shivered at that, sometimes, despite the breeze not being that cold.

“Fuck me.” She mumbled, setting down her binoculars as another empty lot had proven to be just that – a boring and empty lot. “I’m never going to find this fucking crime scene.”

The police might have its problems, but they sure did clear out crime scenes fast. It was always her biggest problem when facing active NYPD investigations: they tried to wrap it up so fast that catching them in the act was harder than just going to the local precinct and demanding information.

She couldn’t do that this time, though, and strolling on over to whichever precinct had the jurisdiction for the case and saying she was a PI hired to work on it didn’t seem like the smartest of ideas. It sounded like something Jake would do.

She placed the binoculars on the seat next to her and started her engine again, driving off to the next location. As the ride went on, she kept trying to remember all the details possible that Jake had on his wall. Amy couldn’t get it out of her head. Was he going to steal her case? Was she just being paranoid? She didn’t know and it frustrated her to no end.

Amy slammed her hands on the steering wheel, accidentally honking the car in front of her. The person in it gave her a middle finger and sped away, making her frown in response.

_ This city never really changes, huh? _ She thought, slamming her foot on the accelerator and going a bit over the speed limit, trying to get over her search as quickly as possible.

When she pulled over across from the next empty lot she sighed, not seeing any police tape, just like the last couple billion places she’d been to. Amy pulled her chair backwards and hoisted her feet on the board, picking up her binoculars again and trying to check for any police information.

She opened a pack of mint gum and put one in her mouth, letting the flavour surround her tongue. After five minutes passed and there was no activity in the lot whatsoever, Amy decided to just eat something and then resume her search. She spit her gum back into its wrapper and got out of the car, disposing the now tasteless food (was chewing gum considered food? She had to google that when she got back to her office) in the nearest trash can.

She approached the nearest food stand and asked for the prophetic “street meat”. The man that was prepping the food gave her a weird look but started working on her order anyway.

When Amy sighed, the man tried to engage in conversation. “Tough morning?”

“Tell me about it.” She said, brushing a stray hair from her face. “I’ve been driving around the city all day and I can’t find what I need to find.”

“Maybe I might be able to help.” He said, after Amy payed for her food. “You never know what a random person like me might hear.” He gave her the “street meat” wrapped up around an aluminium foil.

Amy gave it a thought and shrugged. What would he do, tell the police a random woman asked to know where a crime scene was? Last time she checked, that wasn’t a felony.

“Sure, why not.” Amy took a small bite of the food and swallowed. “Know any like, active crime scenes around this part of town?”

“Around this part of town? No, I haven’t heard of any. But two days ago – I think, I’m not sure – these two cops were standing right there on that corner.” He pointed near where her car was parked. “And as they were making their way over here, I swore I heard their radio blast ‘All officers nearby, a 10-54 has been found near Sackett Street and Fourth Avenue.’ Or, you know, something like that.”

Amy furrowed her brows. “You have an awfully good memory, sir.”

He sighed and pulled out his phone, sliding through its screen. “Alright, you caught me. I was recording something at the time, and I got the whole thing on tape.”

She showed him the video of him doing a dumb dance in front of the stand. After a while, two policemen walked through in a rush, the radio sputtering out exactly what the food stand guy had said.

“Hey, you might’ve actually helped me out!” She said, starting to back away from him.

“Say, are you a reporter or something?” He said, trying to get her attention.

“Yeah, something like that!” She yelled, rushing back to her car.

_ 10-54 means possible dead body.  _ She thought.  _ I might be getting close to something here. _

* * *

After checking her map for the corner the policemen radio had mentioned, she drove there as fast as she could, making sure to park her car far away enough from the lot that it wouldn’t draw suspicion.

The vacant space didn’t even occupy a quarter of the block, fenced off with white cement walls. Only one doorway was seen, which was home for two green gates that opened inwardly. The police tape covered that entry point, so trying to sneak inside was definitely impossible. If she had a drone, Amy could probably take some aerial shots, but even then…

Pulling out her phone, she checked one item off her checklist.

  * **Find the place where Jason was murdered.**

She glanced quickly at the other items on her notes.

  * **Get as much information on the murder as possible.**
  * **Try to go into his house if the police haven’t gotten there yet (****Highly unlikely****)**
  * **If above fails, break into his house (be extremely careful to not leave traces of your presence).**
  * **Take pictures of every single goddamn corner of his house, even flecks of dust**

Okay, maybe she had gotten carried away on that last item, but it was true: good photographic evidence was incredibly important.

Amy got out of her car and pulled out her camera, taking photos of the uniformed officers set to patrol the place. She zoomed into the doorway as much as she could, but without a front facing shot it was impossible to get a clear view of the scene.

That’s when she got an idea.

Getting out her tripod from the trunk and setting the camera with the right settings, she waited until she saw someone cross over to her side of the sidewalk. Running towards them, she tried doing a Spanish accent to pretend she was a tourist.

“Could you take photo?” She gestured towards the camera, doing a motion with her fingers about taking a photograph.

The woman looked a bit scared at her presence at first, but immediately soothed and agreed to her question. “Of course I can!”

She stood in a place and got down on one knee, making a silly face in the process. The woman laughed and pressed the button, only for the camera to start snapping several photos.

Amy got up and headed to the camera, as it was still taking shots, telling her it was okay, she’d delete the other photos.

“Have a nice day!” She said to her.

The woman waved back and returned to walking down the sidewalk to where she was meant to be in the first place. Amy looked at the small screen on her camera and smiled.

_ Gotcha. _ She thought.

There were still the police tapes that were covering the entrance, but she could still see some of the evidence that hadn’t been cleared yet. The resolution of her camera was, for lack of a better word, excellent, so she was bound to do the “zoom & enhance” cliché on her laptop and get some great leads.

The police wouldn’t even know what they had coming. Amy Santiago was about to solve this murder faster than lightning.

The high of solving a problem soon came crashing down when, for the millionth time since the day before, she realised she was trying to solve a case where someone was killed. Murdered.

She looked up at the sky, stretching her neck in the process, and sighed.

“Ma’am, are you going to just stand there?” The police officer across the street asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“No officer, I’m sorry!” Amy said.

“Move along.” He ordered.

She walked back to her car, tripod in one hand and camera in the other.

* * *

“Yes, I understand.” Amy said into the phone, a few hours later, back in her office. “So, you’ll be here at around six? Okay, thank you, Mister Holster.”

She let the dark landline phone land back in its box and rubbed her temples for a few seconds. She could feel a headache coming in, no doubt because of all the time she’d spent staring at the computer trying to process the images she’d collected.

Amy got up and checked her bag for some aspirin, frowning when she couldn’t find any. Picking up a water bottle from her desk, she sighed and made her way to her neighbour’s door.

“Knock knock!” She said, opening the door.

Jake screamed and all the thumbtacks that were on his hands fell on the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Santiago!” He clutched his chest. “You sure know how to give a man a heart attack!”

Amy took the opportunity to look at the map of Brooklyn he had lazily glued to the wall with duct tape. It was filled with drawing pins and thumbtacks, his unintelligible writing filling some of those places. She recognised some of them as the empty lots she had surveyed, but there was also some in places she found a bit odd. The 99 th precinct was one of them, for example.

“You shouldn’t use duct tape to glue things to the wall.” She advised. “It stains them.”

“It does?” He gave her a quizzical look. “I’ve used them for so long and I’ve never seen one.”

“I think you couldn’t tell the Chrysler from the Empire State if I showed you pictures of them, so that sounds accurate.”

“Hey! I know my landmarks!” Jake started picking up what had fallen from his hand.

“Sure you do.” Amy adjusted her hair. “Anyway, do you have any aspirin? I think I left mine at home.”

“Help me pick up the mess  _ you  _ made, and I’ll give you the tabs that are in my bag.”

“This one right here?” She asked, pointing to the bag with one strap that was lying on the floor next to his desk.

“Yeah, it’s in the outer pockets.” He mumbled, completely focused on his task.

“Okay, thanks.” She immediately opened the zipper on the small bag and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. She took one pill from the packet and washed it down with the water bottle she’d brought with her.

“Hey!” Jake complained from behind his desk. “That’s not fair.”

Amy shrugged. “You told me where it was. I followed your directions.”

He looked at her with a slight hint of betrayal in his eyes. Amy rolled her eyes and doubled down, saying she’d help him pick up the thumbtacks anyway but, if she got pricked by one of them, he’d better prepare himself for a lawsuit. Jake agreed to her terms, and they set to their task, stepping carefully on the floor as to not get hurt.

“Why did you have so many thumbtacks on your hands, anyway?” Amy asked, after picking up her ninth one and throwing them in a box that was on top of his desk.

“Too many thumbtacks are never a bad idea.” Jake replied, as if it was a fact.

“Won’t your map just get filled with holes?” She countered.

“If it’s filled with holes it means it’s been used properly.”

“Oh my  _ God! _ ” Amy exclaimed in horror, after realizing what Jake was doing. “You’ve been  _ puncturing  _ the  _ wall?” _

“What else was I supposed to be doing?” He looked surprised at her reaction.

“Buying a corkboard? Like normal people?” Amy suggested, picking up three more pieces.

“Normal people scare me.” Jake mocked.

Amy rolled her eyes, but also chuckled slightly. “Alright, dork.”

“I am  _ not  _ a dork!”

“Are you sure?” She grins at him. “Only dorks know that phrase. Dork.”

“You’re  _ so  _ annoying.” He said, but there were hints of mockery in his voice. “I can’t stand you.”

She ignored him and crouched down, trying to reach for a thumbtack that was underneath his desk. She heard him shuffle around behind her and after pricking herself a few times, she finally managed to get that last elusive piece.

“There.” She dropped the pin in its place and clasped her hands together. “I don’t have a headache anymore and you have all your thumbtacks in one place. See how organization helps?”

“Organization is for losers.” He tried to get under her nerves, but she was having none of it.

“Yet, here we are.” She pointed to the box. “Everything in one place makes things easier, doesn’t it?”

He puffed. “Alright fine, you win this round.” Jake picked up a piece of paper and drew a line in it.

Amy chose not to ask about that tiny sticky note.

“Also, get ready for your lawsuit.” She showed off her hand to him.

Jake groaned in fake disbelief and begged for mercy, which Amy conceded. She said her goodbyes, returning to the hallway only to find Allistor about to leave the elevator. Was it already 6 PM?

“Good evening, Mister Holster.” She greeted him when he was next to her. “Shall we go inside?”

“Apologies for arriving a bit early,” He said. “But I wanted to get this over with.”

Amy nodded and invited him inside. He took the invitation, sitting in a chair and letting Amy sit across from her.

“So, do you have any developments for me?”

Amy told her what she had done that day, keeping most of the boring details to herself. Truthfully, she had only identified the crime scene and taken a few surveillance pictures, but it was a start.

“I’m hoping that whatever information you have for me will help me move forward on this… case faster.” She concluded.

Allistor nodded and produced a set of keys from his coat pocket. “These are the keys to Jason’s building, where his apartment is located.”

Amy grabbed them. “But not his apartment?”

He shook his head. “No, not his apartment. He gave us – me – a copy of the entrance only. Jason always valued his privacy thoroughly.” The man chuckled. “It’s just the way he is.”

Amy didn’t try to correct the way he talked about his son still in the present. “There’s more than one key to the entrance?”

“Well, every resident has one.” He replied.

“Sir,” Amy put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You said ‘us’ just a few seconds ago. If anyone else can be involved in this besides the police, you have to tell me.”

“I guess… I guess my ex-wife could be slightly bothersome in this matter.”

_ You should’ve researched your client, Amy.  _ “Your ex-wife?”

“Yes.” Allistor scratched the back of his neck. “She’s called Dorothea. Dorothea Gordon. She can be quite… tenacious.”

Amy nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do you have anything else to tell me?”

Allistor said no and informed her where Jason’s building was located. They shook hands and parted ways after that, Amy staring at the key in front of her.

* * *

“Okay so, let me get this straight, you’re investigating a homicide on  _ my  _ precinct?” Rosa said.

Amy could almost feel the indignation coming from the crackled voice that left her speaker. “Yes.”

“And you want me to give you information on this dude’s death?”

“…Yes?”

“Amy.” Rosa sounded serious (more serious than normal). “I’ve helped you out a lot over the years, but you’re asking the impossible here.”

“Come on, you can’t give me some leeway?” She pleaded.

“Are you insane?” Rosa was almost yelling now, but it wasn’t a mean yell. Amy knew what a mean yell from Rosa sounded like. “I can’t interfere with an  _ ongoing  _ murder investigation!”

“Can’t you put me in touch with the detective who’s in charge of it?” Amy tried.

“Even if I did that, the Captain would catch wind of it.” Rosa shifted on the other end of the line. “He’s basically been staring at me since I started this phone call.”

Amy groaned. Raymond Holt was the Captain of the 99 th precinct, and she respected his authority greatly, but it didn’t stop her from being annoyed at his constant meddling in her affairs.

“God fucking damn it.” She complained into the speaker.

“My hands are tied here, man. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. The fact that you’re even trying to help me is surprising. I thought you’d be  _ furious  _ at me for even attempting something like this.” Amy leaned back in her chair and hoisted her feet up on the desk.

“It’s the nature of your job, I guess.”

_ Is it, though?  _ “Suppose so. Well, talk to you later. I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Rosa warned, and hung up the call.

The sun had long since vanished, only the dark street lamps illuminating her office. She had forgotten to flick the light switch on, so she was covered in shadows from head to toe.

Amy was beyond tired. After being on a call with Rosa for the better part of two hours, trying to muster up the courage to tell her what she was up to, she got rejected. Hard.

She looked at the corner where her lounge chair was located, eyeing it temptingly. She wasn’t in the mood to go back home, to be alone with her thoughts and get tangled in the web her head had created.

She supposed she could ask Jake to go to Shaw’s, but they’d been there recently already, so he was bound to say no. Or, he might want to go, which terrified her. That was probably a hint that he  _ liked  _ to spend time with her.

But Jake hated her, right? The way she hated him. That was a fixed thing, something that the universe had set when the Big Bang happened.

Amy was spiralling, she knew it. She had to do  _ something,  _ she had to get out of there and not see anyone for the rest of the night. Picking up her business phone and leaving her personal one behind, she left her office in a rush, almost running away from something.

_ What are you running from?  _ She thought, choosing to go down the stairs, her hair already untangled from the ponytail and running wild behind her.

* * *

Jason’s building facade was as unimpressive as her desk. It was the usual New York grey, the windows all dark, no doubt because of the late hour. She opened the door with the key Allistor had given her, sighing in relief when she realised there wasn’t any doorman (or night guard).

She pressed the elevator button, feeling the weight of the camera on her neck and the gun on her leg. Amy had her PI badge in its usual spot still, now revealed in its true silver glory, shining underneath the artificial white lights of the entry hallway.

“Come on, come on…” She mumbled, as the elevator descended to the ground floor.

She checked her watch for the third time since arriving at the building, hoping time would go by faster. No such luck followed her, however, and it read only a few minutes later when she had last checked it. 2:30 AM, it said. She was in the witching hour.

When the familiar ding of the elevator reached her, she stepped into the metal box before the doors fully opened, pressing the 12 th floor button and trying to close the doors with her mind (the elevator didn’t have a “close doors” button)

The ride up was slow and morose, Amy tapping her foot on the black floor, dotted with small circular lumps, which she guessed was to prevent people from sliding. There was also a small mirror in there, but Amy refused to look at it. She didn’t want to know what she looked like.

When she reached the floor, she rushed out the door and looked for apartment D, groaning silently when she saw it was covered in that annoying yellow tape. Police had already seized it, but she hoped they’d already left the thing alone.

Getting a lockpick out of her pocket, she looked around for security cameras, finding a couple. Unfortunately, the door to Jason’s apartment wasn’t in a dead spot.

She could create a dead spot, though.

The corridor she was in was L-shaped, and apartment D was right in the bend, hence the two cameras. She waited until one of the cameras moved to capture the rest of the hallway and she removed her jacket, ripped out part of it (in a place where the other camera wouldn’t see her), and tied the camera to its support. When it tried to move again, the motor whirred in effort, but it didn’t budge.

Amy smiled and did the same thing to the other camera, making apartment D invisible to surveillance. The guard seemed to be either asleep or completely checked out, because no alarm was sounded, and the elevator still hadn’t moved.

Putting her jacket back on (with ripped sleeves now), she guessed she was lucky and immediately started working on jimmying the lock with her trusty equipment, placing the camera on the floor while she focused on that. It took about four minutes to unlock the door, and sweat was already accumulating on her forehead, her hair damp with it. Her gun felt like a knife on her leg, but she didn’t take it off its strap.

Fortunately, the door opened inward, so getting inside the apartment without upsetting the police tape wasn’t hard at all. She picked up her camera and stepped in, closing the door behind her. Amy looked around her surroundings, only partially illuminated by the streetlamps outside.

It was an open-space kind of apartment, a white kitchen island on her left and, on the right, after one step down, a set of three couches facing a big TV that was stuck to the wall. In front of her, a set of glass stairs went upwards about eight feet, in a spiral fashion, to a dark division which she guessed was the bedroom. Behind the stairs, two wooden doors lay against a white wall, whose contents she could only guess. On the right of those doors was a large glass door that led to an impressively wide balcony.

She started taking photos of everything: the kitchen aisle, the couches, the random pictures on the fridge. Turning on her phone flashlight (which was just the flash in continuous mode – the flip phone allowed for some creativity on her part), she made her way up, careful to not leave tracks in the glass pane. She was even wearing some gloves as to not leave any evidence behind.

The bedroom was just a large semi-circular room, the bed with silky dark blue sheets propped up against the part of the wall that was straight. On the curved part there were three dressers (she wondered why Jason had needed so many dressers, but then remembered he was rich), and on the wall that directly opposed the stairs, there was a large window with a beautiful view of the city.

Amy almost felt at peace there. Almost.

She got back to her work mindset, meticulously taking photos of everything she could, choosing against opening the dressers. When she got back down, the apartment felt… different. Like taking photos of it had officially immortalized it in some way. Jason’s spirit would forever live in her camera, and she found herself staring at it.

Before she could move to the two mysterious doors behind the stairs, however, she heard the front door rattle.

“Shit.” She whispered. It was probably the cops.

Looking around desperately for any place to hide, she cursed the open-space layout for leaving everything wide open. Thinking quickly, she threw herself on the side of the kitchen island, making her invisible to whoever opened the door. Maybe if they left the door open, she could sneak out without being seen.

She looked at her feet and cursed her boots. Removing them, she clutched them tightly against her chest as the door finally opened. Footsteps were heard, as well as a loud click.

_ Shit.  _ She thought.  _ Shitshitshitshit. _

The door was closed. How was she supposed to escape now?

Her eyes glazed over for half a second as she thought of something else.

_ What is a cop doing here at such a late hour? _

Unless… It wasn’t a cop.

Immediately reaching for her gun, she undid the strap as quietly as possible, hoping the person that (by her estimations) was now on the living room, seemingly looking for something. She heard the couch being searched, the leathery surface doing its usual sounds when stretched.

Amy moved herself to the other side of the island, dragging her boots along with her. The gun was firmly clutched in her hands, safety still on, and she hoped she didn’t have to use it. She hated using her gun.

The person seemingly turned the TV on by accident, as a loud voice recapping a football game scared her to death, and she almost got up and took a shot. Breathing in deeply (and quietly), Amy moved herself to the edge of the island and looked over the perch.

The person had her back facing her, so they couldn’t tell she was looking at them. She tried to absorb as many details as possible, but the figure was crouched over and almost completely shrouded in darkness. They turned the TV off quickly, scrambling for the remote.

Distracted by trying to understand who the person was, she didn’t even notice that, when adjusting herself to get a better look, she kicked one of her boots, making it fall with a  _ thump. _

She held in a breath and returned to her hiding place right before the figure turned around.

_ It’s now or never, Santiago.  _ She thought.  _ Get out or get done. _

She pulled the safety off and shook her head. She heard the footsteps getting closer and closer, and right before they were reaching the kitchen, she pulled herself up and pointed her gun at the figure.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” She yelled.

The person froze and raised their hands up. Amy could finally see them properly, and it was a man. Red plaid shirt, leather jacket, curly brown hair-

She could recognize that face anywhere.

“ _ Jake? _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh no one saw that coming haha
> 
> I listened a lot to Innerspeaker by Tame Impala while writing this!
> 
> comments and kudos are very much appreciated!!


	4. Heels On The Wooden Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Jake get caught in Jason's apartment and narrowly escape.

“_Amy? _ ” He exclaimed, the same surprise in his voice. “What are _ you _doing here?”

She slipped her gun back into its strap, and Jake relaxed, dropping his arms. “I could ask you the same thing!”

He cocked his head to the side. “You had a gun pointed at me, I think I deserve an answer first.”

Amy blew out air from her nose and rubbed face with her hands. “All right. Fine, but I’m guessing you’re here for the same reason as me.”

Jake opened his mouth, but decided against saying something, giving her time to compose herself. She almost shot him, and that took a toll on anyone, especially if you thought you were being threatened.

“All right. All right.” She knocked on the kitchen island twice, before resting her right palm there. “I still can’t believe I’m _ actually _ doing this, but. But. I’m investigating…” Amy took a deep breath and let her hands brush her hair (it wasn’t in its usual ponytail anymore, so dishevelled Jake thought it looked like she had just gotten out of bed).

“You’re investigating…?” He prompted.

“God, you know what I’m doing it because there’s only two possible reasons for you to be here.” She raised one finger on her left hand. “One, you’re stalking me.” She raised another finger. “Two, you’re investigating the murder of Jason Holster.”

Jake felt something between them shift slightly. He didn’t know if it was because she had put in actual words what they had been doing (investigating a homicide) or if it was because he had reached that conclusion as well.

“I _ knew _you weren’t just stalking my map hung on the wall.” Jake felt like he was being a bit loud. “Was that how you got here?”

“Do you really want to have this discussion now?” She crossed her arms, her face now in its usual controlled expression, if grimacing a little. “And, for the record, I got here on my own.”

Before Jake could counter, a noise was heard from the front door, and their heads snapped to the direction of the sound.

“Is anyone there?” A gruff voice said from the other side of the door.

They looked at each other at the same time, eyes widening.

“I’ll call the police on you!” The person continued.

“Shit.” Jake whispered, and got closer to Amy. “We have to _ get out _ of here.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She whispered back. “We don’t exactly have a lot of options here, Jake. There’s only one way in and one way out.”

He looked around at the apartment, his gaze focusing on the balcony. He pointed towards it and Amy slapped his arm, reminding him that they were on the twelfth floor. Jake hushed out a few cursed words before Amy got an idea.

“What about those doors?” She pointed to the doors behind the glass staircase.

“Are you kidding? That’s where they’re gonna search _ first. _” His gaze landed on the couches.

_ Too exposed. The space behind them is too small to hide, too. _ He thought, then looked around at the kitchen. _ The kitchen island is also too open, and we can’t risk making too much sound. _

“What about upstairs?” He suggested. “Anything up there?”

Amy looked at him and thought for a while. She nodded and grabbed his hand, hushing him with his finger.

“I’m coming in!” Another person said from the other side of the door, before starting to slam into it.

“Holy shit, that was fast!” Jake said, and Amy simply nodded.

Their pace quickened, Amy guiding Jake up the stairs. When they reached the top, she pointed to one of the dressers, and Jake stared at her with an expression that said _ Really? There? _

She shrugged and went to the farthest one, dropping his hand in the process. He thought that he missed her hand for a second, before shrugging that thought and following her as quietly as possible. Amy opened the door and looked at Jake.

It was a spacious dresser, all right, but it was completely empty. They looked at each other and frowned, but the moment to investigate was cut short by a door slamming open. Amy silently threw herself inside and Jake (much less graciously, but still quietly) followed suit, closing the door behind him.

They were shrouded in darkness soon thereafter, only a thin stream of light coming from the small crack in the doorway.

They were in there for about a minute, listening to the footsteps of the person downstairs when Amy started to breathe heavily.

“Shit.” Jake heard her leaning on the wood behind her. “Fuck.”

“Hey, you okay?” He groped around in the dark, searching for her shoulders. He found them and grabbed them tightly. “Don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic…”

“Shut the fuck up for just a second, please. I can…” She took in a deep breath. “I can handle this just… give me a moment.”

He nodded, before realising she couldn’t see him. “Alright. But hey, some advice.”

“What?” Amy sounded a bit desperate.

“Listen to the footsteps of the cop outside.”

“Why would I do tha-”

He shushed her with his index finger. “Just do it.”

Jake swore he saw her closing her eyes. His hand dropped from her face to her hand, letting her take it. Amy grabbed on to it (maybe a bit too tightly, but Jake didn’t complain) and he asked where she thought the cop was.

“They seem to be… really close to those two doors behind the staircase.”

He mentally congratulated himself on his thought process. “Told you so.”

“Okay he’s… I think he’s opening something? The balcony glass door, I think.” She ignored him, describing the path of the person while they made their way through the apartment. Soon enough, she wasn’t breathing as hard, and Jake guessed that getting her focused on something else rather than the fact that they were on a closed space was a good bet on his part.

“Okay, they’re going up the stairs now. God, cop shoes are _ really _loud.” Amy said, her voice dropping below a whisper, making Jake move in closer to her.

“And I’m going to have to tell you to go even more quiet, now. When he reaches this dresser, we open the door on him and rush out of here, okay?”

“That sounds like a really stupid plan.”

“We don’t have a lot of choices, do we?” Jake waited until she let out a breath, which he assumed as a yes.

They shuffled in the closet, moving themselves as quietly as possible (the person still hadn’t noticed even though they were shuffling in wood, which Jake found odd, but didn’t exactly mind) to make their feet be next to the door.

The cop moved from dresser to dresser, his footsteps echoing loudly on the floor. Jake held his breath, waiting until he was close enough to slam the door on his face. He looked at Amy, managing to see her despite the small amount of light, and found her looking at him. He nodded and raised his right hand.

_ One. _He lifted one finger, and Amy steeled herself in her spot. Jake folded his knee and lay halfway down, trying to preserve as much balance as possible.

_ Two. _Jake saw Amy lifting up her camera flash but didn’t question her methods. The person was right in front of them, walking closer and closer.

“Three!” Jake yelled. Throwing all his strength into his right foot, he pushed the door open. Amy did the same with her left leg, and the cop was thrown off balance and fell on the floor.

Before the policeman could compose himself, she took a flash photo of him, momentarily blinding him.

“RUN!” Amy yelled, and she didn’t have to tell him twice.

Jake sprinted across the room, nearly sliding down the stairs (wondering how in all hell did they not break under both their running feet), and ran towards the door. Amy took a small detour by the kitchen and picked up her boots, while Jake opened the front door and motioned at her to hurry. When she finally crossed through, Jake closed the door only to see the man running down the stairs.

“You don’t have your shoes on?” Jake asked Amy, as they run towards the stairwell.

She groaned in response, simply pointing to the number atop the elevator doors. “It’s on the ninth floor! If we go down those four stories, we’ll probably escape the guy!”

“You think I can run four flights of stairs?” The door to apartment D opened soon thereafter, and Jake didn’t even glance back while he opened the access to the staircase. “Okay, I think I can run four flights of stairs.”

Amy was surprisingly fast, even with a camera on her shoulders and boots on her hands. Jake noticed - with amusement - that her socks had Christmas candy canes on them, but didn’t voice his opinion. She seemed frustrated enough.

After they reached the ninth floor and called the elevator, the doors opened immediately and they jumped in, the cop nowhere in sight. While they went down, Amy lay against the metal wall and gasped for breath and Jake clung onto his knees.

A lot of time seemed to pass before both their breathings stabilised, and they soon reached the ground floor, the elevator opening the door to the street like a gift.

“Ready to sprint again?” Jake asked, cleaning out the sweat on his forehead with his jacket.

“I can’t believe I ran four flights of stairs only with socks on.” Amy complained, her boots already properly set on her feet. “But fuck it, anything to get away from the cops, right?”

He nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Let’s get out of here before that guy shows up.”

They ran into the streets and decided on the way to go to their office building, since it was far away enough to not draw suspicion. Once they realised they weren’t being tracked, they slowed down and walked slowly through the New York streets.

After a while of not speaking, Jake looked at her. “Kind of reminds me of that night all those years ago, don’t you think?”

Amy took a long while to answer, seemingly focused on her shoes. “Yeah, it does feel like it.” She paused for a bit before continuing. “It all feels like a dream, sometimes, you know? It’s been so long.”

“We’ve really known each other for nine years, huh?” He kicked some loose gravel from the sidewalk. “Seems like an awful long time to hate someone.”

“I don’t…” Amy started, but stopped in her tracks. “We’re here.”

Jake looked at the building in front of him, a sight for sore eyes. At night it was dark, almost foreboding, but he knew its insides better than anyone, so he didn’t mind how it loomed over him, the light from the street lamps not even reaching the top.

Amy looked at her phone and sighed. “It’s four-fifteen AM.”

“Well, better catch some sleep while you can then.” Jake looked at his phone. “Do you want me to call you a cab?” He offered.

She was clearly struggling to use her flip phone. “No, I’ll be fine. I wasn’t planning on sleeping much, anyway.” She returned her attention to her screen. “My bed does feel very inviting right about now, though.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, uh, I’ll wait until your ride arrives.”

Amy returned her gaze to him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Jake looked at her trembling hands. “Are you cold, or are flip phones _ that _hard to manage?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hilarious, Peralta.”

He sat down at the stairs that led to the entrance to the building, letting out a breath of exhaustion. “God, I’m tired.”

Still searching through something on her phone, Amy followed his movements and sat down next to him, mumbling: “Where the fuck is it?”

“What are you looking for?”

“The cab company number. I could’ve sworn I had it saved here, somewhere.”

“Alright, I’m calling you an Uber.” Jake pulled out his phone and quickly opened the app. Amy protested, but he told her to suck it up, because she wouldn’t know when he’d be this nice again. She gave him a pointed look, but stopped protesting.

“And where are you going to sleep?” Amy asked, when Jake told her that her ride was five minutes away.

He pointed behind him. “I have a small armrest chair in my office. I’m surprised you never noticed it.”

He knew she had noticed it, but he was curious to see her reaction.

“Huh, guess I never thought you’d sleep there.” She said, now lying down on the steps.

“Come on, Santiago.” He laid down too, staring at the starless sky above them. “I think you know me better than that.”

They didn’t say anything for a long time, and Jake kept his gaze fixed up, not daring to break the moment.

But was there even a moment to break?

Before he could say anything, though, Amy’s ride arrived and they said goodbye to one another, promising to talk the next day (or was it the next day already?). He waved while the car sped away and wondered what his mind was trying to tell him when they were lying side by side, staring at the expansive black, with notes of street lamp orange.

* * *

_ Nine years ago. _

_ The first thing Jake did after setting down his landline phone was ripping out the papers that were stuck in the wall and throw them out the window. The second thing he did was storm over to his neighbour’s office, slamming her door open, not caring when it collided against an archive and almost swung back against him. _

_ “What the hell, Santiago?” He screamed. _

_ She calmly closed the file in front of her and looked at him from across the room. “Yes?” _

_ “You know _ exactly _ what you did.” Jake seethed, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I can’t believe you stole another case from me!” _

_ “Another case?” Amy’s calm façade immediately dropped, replaced by controlled anger. “It’s not like _ you _ haven’t pulled shit like this, either!” _

_ “Give me a break. You knew I was about to close this case, and you swopped in at the last second like a… like a fucking vulture!” He accused. _

_ “What goes around, comes around, Peralta!” She spat. “You take cases from me, I take cases from you!” _

_ Jake groaned loudly and pulled his hands up to his head. He’d only been a Private Investigator for about six months now, but in that short span of time, Amy Santiago had managed to steal about a third of his cases (he’d stolen the same amount from her, but he didn’t think about that). _

_ “This is infuriating.” Jake said, slamming her his fist against the wooden frame. “We can’t keep doing this.” _

_ “Because you have the moral high ground to even propose something.” She crossed her arms. _

_ “Zip it, Santiago. Don’t try to be smart with me, you’re to blame in this, too.” Jake took a deep breath. _

_ “What do you propose we do, then? If you’re so wise.” _

_ Jake looked at her, the anger inside of him quickly transforming into a void. He sighed. “Want to go grab a drink?” _

_ Amy looked confused. “Sorry?” _

_ “Let’s just… go grab a drink. You know, to let off steam.” He repeated. _

_ “I’d rather yell at you then go get a drink with you.” Something in her face changed when looking at him, though, and she conceded, as she started picking up her keys and bag. “But I guess making a public spectacle doesn’t sound that bad.” _

_ “Are you really going to yell at me in a bar?” He asked, stepping away from the door and letting her lock her office. _

_ “We’ll see.” She gestured towards his office. “Lock your shit up.” _

_ “Will do, ma’am.” The usual mocking tone rose in his voice. _

_ Amy lifted her hand. “Don’t.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Don’t try using that tone right now.” _

_ Jake nodded, accepting the situation they were in right now. It was serious, probably the most serious it’d ever been since they knew each other. _

_ \- _

_ Jake dropped Shaw’s as their location when Amy said he could choose where they went (“Because I stole from you, I guess.” She offered as an excuse). It was a local pub, about two blocks away from their building. It was already night time, and the street lamps emanated their orange light, painting the streets in an eternal dusk. _

_ They didn’t speak on the whole walk over, Jake with his hands firmly hidden by his coat pockets, Amy grabbing onto loose strands of her pantsuit, playing with them to seem distracted. _

_ When they finally reached the door to the pub, Jake let Amy go in first, and she mumbled a “thanks” in response. _

_ The interior was loud and filled with activity. There were people strewn around the whole surface of the space, some playing pool, others darts and even others playing cards on top of the wooden tables. There were also people just talking, enjoying each other’s company. Jake and Amy sat by the bar stools next to the counter and both ordered beers. _

_ “Didn’t figure you for a beer person.” He commented. _

_ “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She replied. “And I’d like to keep it that way.” _

_ “Cheers to that.” Jake said, and raised his beer. She clinked it with his, and they both took a long swig from their respective bottles. _

_ Silence followed, or as much quiet as the loud atmosphere of the bar allowed. _

_ “Alright,” Jake started. “We gotta find a way to figure this out.” _

_ “This?” Amy stared at him. _

_ “Yeah, _ this.” _ He gestured to the both of them. _ “ _ As in, we keep getting mad at each other.” _

_ “You keep stealing my cases.” She pointed out. _

_ “You keep stealing _ my _ cases!” He rebutted. _

_ “Touché.” Amy took another swig from her beer and frowned. “God, it’s so loud. You like it here?” _

_ “You don’t?” Jake was stunned. He never met anyone who didn’t like a bar. _

_ “I prefer my peace and quiet.” _

_ “Of course you do.” He rolled his eyes. “But you know, at least here you aren’t left alone with your thoughts.” _

_ She cocked her head to the side. “Maybe because it’s too noisy to even think.” _

_ “That’s the whole point! For someone who has a surprising ability at stealing other people’s cases-” _

_ “Look who’s talking.” Amy interrupted. _

_ “-you sure are slow at picking things up, sometimes.” Jake continued, unphased by her comment. _

_ This time, she rolled her eyes. Looking around the bar, she sighed. _

_ “Want to play some darts?” She suggested. _

_ “Winner buys the other a beer?” _

_ “Sure.” _

_ They shook hands, finished the rest of their beers and walked quickly over to the other side of the bar, grinning at each other. Amy bragged about how good she was at darts and Jake kept trying to outplay her. He lost the first match and bought her a beer as promised. They kept playing, however, and soon they were both pretty drunk, having bought an equal number of bottles for the other. _

_ “Okay, fine!” Jake yelled. “Let’s call it a tie!” _

_ “Boo! Ties are for losers.” Amy shouted back. _

_ “I think we’re both _ great _ at this game. Next time though, we try pool!” _

_ Amy blinked her eyes a few times. “Next time?” _

_ “Oh, I didn’t mean to…” Jake started. _

_ “No, it’s okay. I…” Amy adjusted her hair. “I’m having fun.” _

_ He smiled. “Me too.” _

_ Jake felt her stare linger on him for a second too long, like an idea was slowly forming in her head. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” _

_ “A deal?” He looked intrigued. _

_ “A deal, yeah.” Amy finished what was left of her glass. “Let’s never steal each other’s cases.” _

_ “That sounds terrible.” Jake said, grinning and leaning forward. He could still smell her perfume, somehow not drowned out by the sweat and alcohol surrounding them. “How about… we never steal _ ongoing _ cases. That good?” _

_ “Sounds perfect to me.” Her face betrayed her and she gave him a polite smile. _

_ Jake gave her a smile back, with the same level of restraint. That interaction settled the deal between them, and they knew that the other would never steal cases from now on. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a bit short, but the next one will be longer! I promise
> 
> again, a million thanks to les for editing my work and having the patience to tolerate me (follow her she's @avengermitchell on twitter)
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	5. Divided We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy fight; Jake starts his deep dive into Jason's past.

_ Jake was running for his life. From what he didn’t know, exactly, but it was chasing him, and he didn’t dare look back, the fear of finding something unspoken behind him. _

_ So, he ran and ran, through a complex of hallways that never seemed to end. They appeared to be exactly the same, but he didn’t have time to form a map in his head of the place, because that would involve slowing down, and slowing down meant certain doom. _

_ The _ thing _ was at his heels, he was sure of it. Jake could feel its raspy breath on the back of his neck, its hands nearly reaching his, its legs trying to trip him up, to make him fall. _

_ Not even the most curious man would look back at whatever sight was behind him, but after what felt like forever, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired, battered, bruised and, most of all, angry. Who could be this dedicated to hunting him? _

_ Jake stopped and turned around suddenly, only to see nothing behind him. He tried to understand what was happening, but it didn’t make _ any _ sense. How could something – or someone – be right on his tail and then not? Had it collapsed? Had it crashed into something? _

_ “Jake!” A voice echoed out from behind him, and he looked in its direction. _

_ He saw her face first, her cheeks with slight cuts and a bruise on her forehead. Then he saw her suit, sleeves tattered and gashes exposing her skin, with already healed wounds on them. She was reaching for him, her right arm stretched so tensely he saw all the veins popping on her skin. _

_ “Amy!” He yelled back, running towards her now, towards the voice, towards her breathing and her existence. He needed a human presence, and she was the one to appear before him, so Jake had to hold on to her. But, no matter how much he ran, she kept herself at the same distance, arm always outstretched. _

_ “I can’t reach you!” He shouted, over tired gasps of breath. “How do I reach you?” _

_ At that, she stopped reaching for him, and the floor between them _ contracted _ , allowing her to reach him. _

_ “We’re not friends.” She said. “We’re not buddies. I don’t know anything about you, and you don’t know anything about me.” Her pupils dilated and covered her irises, turning fully dark. _

_ Jake was frozen in fear, realising she was the monster. Humanity had betrayed him once again, and when he saw a gun was in her hand, he wasn’t surprised. _

_ “I intend to keep it that way.” The monster said. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Amy, simply using her body to torment him. _

_ A gunshot echoed out, Jake not even registering its sound. His brain only registered when pain came from his belly, and he brought his hands to it, only to raise them and see blood covering them, already dripping onto the floor in pools. _

_ “Please.” He begged. “Help me.” _

_ She (It?) simply looked at him, disgust plastered on her (its?) face, while he fell backwards towards the floor, but there was nothing under him and he fell and he fell and he fell and _

* * *

Jake woke up with a start, grimacing when pain flared up his back. He lifted himself up from the armchair, looking at it to try and find the source of his discomfort, only to come upon his phone stuck in the exact spot where he was sleeping.

He picked it up and got himself out of the chair, looking at his watch again. It read 4:04, and he nearly had a heart attack until he realised it was broken.

_ I really need to buy a new one. _ He thought, while unlocking his phone and checking his messages.

He had a few missed calls from Charles and some texts from Gina and his Mom. He called Charles straight away, afraid he was forming a task force because he was gone for more than an hour (he had nearly done that three times now, so Jake wasn’t about to take any chances), and after reassuring his friend that he was okay, he texted the other two back, assuring them he had only fallen asleep.

After all of that, Jake finally saw what time it was, frowning when he realised it wasn’t even noon yet. He thought about heading home for the day and trying to go back to his office at night, but a knock on his door distracted him.

“Peralta, are you awake?” Amy asked, from the other side.

Memories from his dream came back to him, though it was simply vague feelings and sensations, not actual concrete thoughts. Her voice still sounded foreboding to him, but he shook that away and answered her. “Yeah, you can come in!”

Amy came inside, taking a moment to absorb his poor state. His jacket lay on the couch, as he had used it as a makeshift sheet, his plaid shirt was crumpled beyond belief, more folds noticeable than the actual tissue itself, and his hair was a wild mess of curls, even more than usual.

Jake took her in, a bit jealous at how good she looked. She was adorning her usual navy blue pantsuit and underneath it, she had a floral shirt. She was in her usual ponytail and, in her hands, holding a small light brown file.

“So you brush your hair in the morning?” Amy blurted out, and Jake stared at her like she was insane. “Your hair isn’t as wild when I see you, is all.”

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck, a bit uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, I brush my hair in the morning.”

“That’s uh… Good. Good to know.” She shifted around in her place, the air between them becoming awkward.

Had something changed between them? Jake didn’t know, but _ awkward _ wasn’t a word he usually used to describe their conversations. _ Annoying _ or _ short _ were some examples that he could think of, but _ awkward _? That was a first.

“Sit down, please!” Jake pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and Amy went to the right one promptly.

“Uh, I wanted to clear some things.” She said, nervously tapping the file on her hands. “About the case.”

Jake put his hands together, letting them rest on top of the table. “What’s there to clear?”

“Well, we’re working on the same case…” Amy said, like it was obvious.

“Which means that you want me to drop it?” Jake asked, the haze on his mind slowly dissipating. “I’m not dropping it, Santiago.”

“Neither am I, Peralta.” She crossed her arms.

“This leaves us on a standstill… but there’s something we could do.” Jake tested the air between them, to see if it still held some of that _ awkward _in it.

“What are you suggesting?” She asked, and he realised that the _ awkward _ moment was just that – a moment. It happened to people all the time.

“Let’s try and team up.” He suggested.

Amy looked at him for a moment, before laughing. Jake raised one of his eyebrows, and she stifled her giggling.

“You’re serious?” She grabbed the armrest of the chair. “You think it could ever work?”

“We’ve never tried it before, and we reached the same conclusions pretty quickly. Why not?” Jake messed with his hair, feeling doubt more and more with every second.

“Come on, Peralta.” She reached closer to him from the other side of the desk. “Do you really trust me enough for this?”

“I don’t.” Jake lifted his hands, shrugging. “But why would that stop it? We’re both clearly good at our jobs, so working together should be a no-brainer.”

“If it was that simple, we’d have a joint investigation agency together at this point, don’t you think?” Amy pointed to his door, as if to prove her point. “My office is still across the hall from yours after all this time.”

“You know what?” Jake didn’t know if it was the vestige of his dream, or the dull ache on his back, or the lack of sleep, but he snapped. “Fine! Do whatever you want, but I’m _ not _ dropping this case just because you want me to. I’m done with giving in to your fucking demands.”

“_ My _ demands?” She looked different now, her face changing from indifference to anger in an instant. “I’m stating the obvious here – we’ve never worked together for a reason and that reason is pretty clear!”

“Oh yeah?” Jake got up from his seat, trying to stare her down. “Enlighten me, since you’re so smart!”

Amy rose as well, trying to match his eye level. “We aren’t compatible at all, Jake! We’ve never been, and we never will!”

He put both his hands on the desk, an intimidating glare strewn across his face. “I get how it is, then. You come into my office and ask me for things, and I’m supposed to just take it?” He pointed to his front door. “Not anymore. Get out of my office, Santiago.”

She puffed angrily. “You’re right. I’m not helping _ you _out, anymore, too! Have fun finally buying some stuff for yourself and not borrowing from me!”

“I will!” He yelled as she made her way out the door. “They’ll be so good, you’ll be coming to me for them!”

She groaned loudly and slammed the door shut, leaving Jake alone. Sighing, he dropped himself onto his chair again, letting his head fall on his hands.

The falling sensation from his dream came again, but it wasn’t his body. No, it was his mind. It fell all the way down to the ground floor, passing through people working and getting on with their day, before going through the floor and traversing the layers of concrete that dotted the city. It fell through the layers of the Earth, reaching the core and still going, soon projecting itself through the other side of the planet, flowing through the waves of a different ocean.

Jake lifted his head before his mind got shot into the Universe, forever lost among the stars, gasping for breath.

* * *

After putting himself together and trying to organize his office as best as he could, Jake called Dorothea to start working on a web of connections for Jason. He couldn’t really infer anything from the short look he got from the victim’s apartment (including the suspiciously empty dresser) and asking Amy for the photos was out of the question. Breaking in again also wouldn’t be safe, since the police would tighten security around Jason’s house, making it impossible to even _ think _ about that.

He stared at his map of Brooklyn, circling Lots 45 and 48 as possible crime scenes. Jake supposed driving to them and taking pictures would be the wise thing to do, but he was more focused on another wall, where he had put Jason’s name in the middle, lines connecting his name to others.

Dorothea proved to be the exact amount of help he thought she’d be – that’s to say, almost none at all. Mothers (well, rich, divorced and nearly estranged mothers) barely knew things about their sons, and she was no different, providing him with a handful of names, mostly with seemingly loose connections to Jason. Only a few caught his eye, old rivals and friends, that could have a motive for killing him.

But with that kind of an execution? Two clean shots, one in the head and one in the chest. Probably a few seconds apart, so Jason could see his assailant before having a bullet rammed in his brain. Jake stared at the names and faces of those suspicious people and couldn’t see them doing it at all. Rich folks barely got their hands dirty unless it was strictly necessary, preferring to use other (lesser to them, he thought with disdain) people to do their dirty work for them.

Were any of them capable of performing such a hideous act? He didn’t think so. But would they hire someone to do it? That was another question entirely, and an option that he thought was more likely.

Jake frowned, wondering if he was being used by Dorothea as a pawn in one of her many schemes. He had done his own research on her using Spoll’s incredible database, something she’d set up back in 2004. He had only joined in on it after one year of being a PI, when she approached him via email (he didn’t question her methods out of fear of being hacked and exposed by her, which she had done in the past to people who had betrayed her).

The database was warmly known to him as “Private Eyez”, shortened to PE most of the time (Jake was aware of the irony). In it, he found Dorothea’s record to be surprisingly spotless, making him wonder if she actually was a _ nice _person, behind all the tough woman façade she wore.

Shaking his client out of his head (why would she hire him to find her son’s murderer if _ she _ was the murderer? It didn’t make sense), Jake decided to focus on Jason again. He did his research on PE as well, and Jason was even cleaner than his mother. Dorothea had some dropped lawsuits (which she was probably guilty of), but he didn’t even have that, a record _ so _clean it was honestly kind of suspicious.

Rich kids always got into trouble and Jake knew this because he had to clean up some of those messes by them. So how was Jason so clean? Was he a legitimately good person?

Jake stared at the wall of connections in front of him, puffing when he realised that this approach probably wasn’t the best way to go about it. He glanced at his phone, hoping that maybe there was an error in the database.

After three rings, Spoll picked up.

“What’s up, Jake?” She said, with her mouth clearly full.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could double check someone for me.” He said, leaning on his desk. “I’ve checked your database, but it feels suspiciously clean.”

“Are you insulting my abilities?” Spoll asked, a threatening edge to her voice. “You know I can destroy you with a click, right?”

“I, uh…” Jake hesitated, trying to find the right words before hearing her laugh on the other side of the line.

“You should’ve heard your voice!” Spoll howled. “Man, you were _ so _scared.”

“Hilarious, Spoll.” Jake deadpanned.

“Yeah, I know, I’m a comedy queen. Anyway,” she sniffled and picked up more food. “Who’s the guy?”

Jake fumbled with his papers before finding Jason’s full name and spelling it out to her.

A few clicks and taps later, he finally got a response from the tech master. “Hmm… you’re right, this guy’s record is oddly clean. Are you sure he’s rich?”

“Positive. I mean, both of his parents – which are divorced, by the way – are stupid rich, so…”

“Yeah, it makes sense for him to be, too.” She hesitated for a while, before continuing. “Usual fees for this job?”

Jake groaned. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You love me.” Spoll replied.

“Alright, fine…” A devilish idea popped on his head. “But also, do me a favour.”

“That’s gonna cost you extra.”

Jake sucked in air. “Can you let me finish? We’ll talk about money later.”

“Fine.” He heard her opening something that was made with plastic.

“Okay so… I want you to tell Amy that you don’t know anything else about Jason if she asks you the same thing.”

Jake heard Spoll choke on something. “You guys are _ hilarious _. Oh man, this is going to keep me entertained for ages.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

She ignored him. “You know what? I’ll do both those things for free. I’m feeling generous.”

At that, her comments went completely above his head and Jake beamed. “Really? Oh my god, thank you _ so _much! You’re literally a life saver, Spoll.”

“I know, sweetheart. Now leave me alone, and tomorrow I’ll give you more details on this Jason guy.”

Spoll hung up and Jake was left staring at Jason’s name, written out in black ink, in front of him.

* * *

Jake only left the office at night, after staring at meaningless names and proof for hours. Wanting to survey the spots where Jason’s crime scene could be, he made an attempt at leaving his office, but was interrupted by Dorothea calling him with some brand new information: her son had a hidden P.O. box that he had kept hidden from her.

After writing the address on a sticky note, Jake sprinted out the door and ran to his car (which turned out to be quite the run, since he had parked two blocks away). He glued the note to his dashboard, next to the radio and sighed when the car didn’t start when he turned the key.

“Come on, come on!” He yelled into his steering wheel. “Work you… precious thing that I love very much!”

Some people who were walking nearby gave him a weird look, but Jake didn’t care, simply trying his key again and again. On the sixth and most desperate attempt, his car engine came to life and he shouted in joy, pushing the accelerator as hard as he could (only for the car not to move, because he had left the hand brake on).

After handling that slightly embarrassing moment, Jake tapped the address on his phone and followed the directions, thinking why in all hell Jason had a P.O. box. People usually only had them when they didn’t want other people to know where they lived, or if they owned a business.

Jason had no reason for both. Why would he have one, then?

Nothing about him made sense to Jake. He had rich friends but seemed to barely talk to them. He had rich parents but wasted his money on low-end furniture and had empty dressers in his bedroom. He had the perfect opportunity to get and do anything he ever wanted but he didn’t do anything, seemingly closing himself in his apartment all day (according to Dorothea).

The P.O. box was the first real lead Jake had, a chance to finally understand who he was as a person.

When he reached the post office, he jogged inside, removing his PI badge from its usual place around his neck and placing it in his pocket. Pretending to be a normal person was usually the best way to approach situations like these, and the fact that he didn’t have the key to open Jason’s hidden mail was a problem. Faking it, though? It could help him.

He’d been dead for five days now, so maybe he still had a shot at getting a replacement key that would give him some much needed answers.

All of those thoughts came out the drain when he saw Amy standing in front of him, waiting with a small sheet of paper on her hands.

She didn’t notice him at first, as she was looking towards a screen on the left of her, searching for the number she was holding in it. After turning around, however, she furrowed her brows and walked towards him with what felt like raw fury and determination combined to form a bomb wrapped up in a neat little pantsuit package.

“What are you doing here?” She seethed, keeping her voice low.

“Following up on a lead.” He said, crossing his arms. “Why are _ you _here?”

“I’m not saying anything to you.”

“So we’re here for the same thing.” Jake patted her shoulder. “Thanks for the tip!”

He looked at her waist and found that the PI badge on her was gone, as he expected it to be. Her gun was also mysteriously gone.

“Where are you looking at, Peralta?” She was about to give him a swift punch to the arm when a ding echoed out from the columns placed somewhere up above them, and she looked towards the screen. “Shit, we’ll have to talk later.”

“Now you want to talk?” He grinned.

“We’re not done here.” She motioned with her hands that she was watching him, and Jake raised his arms in the air like he was surrendering.

_ Amy might be the way I get into that P.O. box. _ He thought. _ Well, it’s probably the easiest way to get into it. Title of my sex tape? _

He shook his head and stared at her, talking to someone at the counter. Looking around, Jake saw that the post office was basically empty, only a few stragglers here and there sitting on the chairs strewn about the white walls and red brick tiles.

Adjusting his hair, he made his way to her and put on the brightest smile he could manage.

“Babe!” He exclaimed, grabbing onto her waist. “Have you gotten Jason’s keys yet?”

At first, she looked at him horrified, but the man at the counter looked at them with a warm face. Recognizing the change in his demeanour, Amy played right into his act.

“Sorry, but this guy says he can’t do it without his direct approval.” She pushed him away subtly and grabbed his hand instead, putting it on the counter. “And we really wanted to give that gift as a surprise…”

“What is this gift?” The man asked.

Jake quickly pulled out his badge from his pocket. “It’s a fake police badge… it’s an inside joke between us and him, a story that would take _ way _too long to explain.”

Amy giggled and Jake felt something inside him stir. “It’s so funny… He’ll love it.”

The man at the counter looked at them, holding hands and staring at each other, and was suddenly moved deeply. “You know what? Fine, I’ll let you access it. But you have to be quick, okay?” He slid a small key across the marble surface, and both Jake and Amy untangled their hands and reached for it.

“We’ll be faster than lightning!” She said, a bit too high pitched.

“Sorry… her voice goes _ super _high when she gets excited.” Jake threw the man a wink.

“Come on, babe! Let’s not leave him rushing!” That distracted him enough for her to grab the key and going in the direction off towards the hallway where the mailboxes were located.

“Women, right?” Jake said to the man, getting him an awkward stare. “They’re better than us in every way, shape or form.” He added, in a rush, before leaving him and running towards Amy.

“You’re insane.” She said, when he caught up to her.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He replied, trying to grab the key from her hands.

She backed her hand away from him. “No way. I’m seeing the contents of this mystery mailbox and you’re going to have to _ wait _for your turn.”

“You know that I’m not doing that.” He placed his hands on his hips. “We’re running short on time here and I won’t let you get an edge on me.”

“Should’ve dropped the case, then.” She said, splitting off from him and walking towards Jason’s mailbox.

“Oh, no, _ you _ should’ve dropped the case.” He caught up to her again and stole a good glance at the key. _ 405, _it read.

“We’re not doing this conversation now.” She tightened her grip on the small instrument, her hand turning white with effort.

“Is that your tagline, Santiago? You’ve been saying that a lot lately.” Jake scratched his chin and frowned, feeling a bit of stubble coming in. “Is that what you say in bed? ‘Sex first, talk never’?”

She brought her hands to her head and glared at him with such an air of intimidation, Jake took a step back. “Back the fuck off, Peralta. I’m not in the mood for your sex tape jokes.”

Jake couldn’t control himself. “That wasn’t even a sex tape joke!”

Amy groaned and reached the right mailbox, opening it quickly – only to see a bunch of papers fall off into the ground.

“Shit.” She crouched and started picking things up from the floor. Jake motioned to help her, but she raised her finger. “I swear to god, you come near me and I’m kicking you in the balls.”

“You’re crouching.” He noted, gesturing to her posture.

“I’ll punch them if I have to.”

“Harsh.”

“Only for the worst.”

Jake noted that one small piece of paper slipped underneath the mailboxes, far enough from Amy for her not to notice that it was peeking out. Whistling quietly, he stepped to that spot and covered it with his shoe, trying not to raise suspicion.

She scrolled through the letters one by one, taking photos of each one, her face turning from contained anger to mishandled curiosity.

“Hm.” She mumbled, after getting up and looking at one particular letter.

“What is it?” Jake had his hands behind his back, but was ready to protect himself at any second, was Amy to try anything.

She shrugged and showed him the piece of paper. It was unopened, but the front of the envelope still had a clear logo in it. “American Airlines?”

“Receipt, from the looks of it?” She said. “Probably nothing.”

He cocked his head to the side, adjusting his feet so that the small slit of paper underneath it remained hidden. “For you to say that, ‘probably nothing’,” Jake used air quotes at this. “means ‘probably something’.”

“Well, whatever I feel like my gut is telling me, you’re getting nothing.” She shoved it all back in the P.O. box and closed the door harshly. “Now let’s get out of here before anyone gets suspicious.”

“Hold on, let me tie my shoelaces.”

She frowned. “They’re already tied.”

“They’re _ loose, _Amy. God, you don’t know a thing about sneakers, do you?”

She rolled her eyes, but nothing about her face screamed suspicion. “Hurry the fuck up, then. This place gives me the creeps.”

Jake crouched down and untied his right shoe. “Is anyone on the hallway?”

Amy glanced behind her, and he worked fast, raising his shoe and, while using his left hand, slipping the piece of paper in his back pocket. He was back at tying his shoelaces when she looked back at him. “No, we’re still safe, but I don’t know how long our couple story is going to hold up if we take so long.”

Jake stood up and cleaned his jeans. “Let’s go, _ babe. _”

She rolled her eyes again. “God, I hate you so much.”

“Feeling’s mutual, darling.” He offered his arm to her, and she took it hesitantly. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

The man at the counter didn’t pay them much mind when they arrived back at the main entrance, simply getting the key back and wishing them the best. After leaving the door, they didn’t immediately untangle from each other. Amy seemed to be relishing Jake’s arm, in fact, as she held onto it tightly after a rush of wind blew past him.

“Are you that cold?” He asked, which made Amy release her grip and step back from him.

“No, it’s just the breeze.” She crosses her arms and shakes a bit, getting a grin from Jake.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going home, and if you think for even a _ second _ that I’m going to tell what else was on those letters, you’re being tased.”

“You have a taser?”

“You don’t?” She raised one of her hands. “You know what, I don’t care. Bye, Peralta.”

“See you never, Santiago!” He said, while she stormed off in the direction of where her car probably was. Jake did the same, waiting to get inside the vehicle to pull out the small piece of paper.

It was a small postcard with a picture of a generic landscape, along with a very European town right in the middle. On the top right corner, in a white font (which was a stupid colour, since it you could barely read it against the sky), was the name of the country – Italy. Jake flipped the postcard, waiting to see a generic family message, maybe written in Italian, but was surprised to see just a small sentence:

** _We miss you. - J, G, M_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHH !!!
> 
> Anyway, thanks as usual to Les for editing my chapters and tolerating my sleep deprived self when I don't know how to finish chapters
> 
> Give me all your thoughts!!! I love to hear them.


	6. United We Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake learns some new information on Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// shooting sequence

Jake didn’t get much sleep that night, his mind plagued with questions about the postcard. As a result, the bags under his eyes deepened, making it seem like his skin was rotting. He didn’t exactly mind, though, choosing to shrug it off when he got to his office.

He put the small piece of paper (with the landscape facing outwards, in case Amy was to snoop around in his office – he doubted that though) in a small plastic cover, sticking it to the wall next to Jason’s name. Staring at it for a while, Jake rubbed his temples to understand what the hell it meant.

_ We miss you, _ was written in it. ‘We’ as obviously the ‘J’, ‘G’ and ‘M’ next to that note. ‘J’ could only stand for Jason, but who could the ‘G’ and ‘M’ be? He thought about making a list of the people who had G’s and M’s in the web of connections, but it was clearly someone who Jason either hadn’t talked with in a while or just didn’t make their presence known.

There were a couple of people with those initials, and he spent the rest of the morning tracking them down and interrogating them. The “I’m a PI working for Jason’s mother to investigate his murder” excuse was surprisingly effective, even if at first they had shown to be a bit suspicious.

Gracie, Gwen, Gregor, Mason, Millie, Maisie, the list of names went on and on, all with alibis he was going to have to double check later but were most likely all true. His gut told him that, whoever had done this, it wasn’t going to be one of his rich pals.

No, something else much larger was in play. What, exactly, he didn’t know.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon, the sun shining lazily on the streets of New York, when Jake got news from Spoll.

“I have some info right here, but this guy is, surprisingly, a ghost.”

“Well, his mother said he valued his privacy, so…” Jake waved his hands in the air, before realising that she couldn’t see him.

“She wasn’t kidding. Barely any social media presence, scarce messages on the same platforms…”

“Anyone with the initials G or M that seem relevant?”

He heard a few clicks and taps on the other end of the line, before getting a reply. “Nope, all those G’s and M’s belong to random ass people. No one really noteworthy. Well,” She seemed to be adjusting herself in her chair. “No one noteworthy in rich people circles, I mean.”

Jake furrowed his brows. “Phone records?”

“Can’t access them. The security’s super tight on them, for some reason, and whoever they hired to make the programs is a genius. Kind of attracted to them, whoever they are.”

“Sounds dreamy.” Jake added, an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

“Don’t get witty with me, Jacob.” Spoll seemed to have a mocking edge to her tone, so Jake wasn’t worried about being exposed. “Besides, don’t you have a friend in high places?”

He slapped his forehead. “Fuck! I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, we know.”

Jake ignored her. “Okay, thanks Spoll.” He hesitated, trying to ask about his favour. “Any news on Santiago?”

“Radio silence on her part, still.”

“Okay, thanks again. You’re the best!”

“I know.”

He hung up and wandered around his office, thinking about how stupid he was.

He had Gina  _ right there _ , arguably the most knowledgeable person in all of New York – or the world. Jake was pretty sure she knew at least a little bit about everyone everywhere.

Was it terrifying? Yes. Was he going to use it anyway? Absolutely.

Contacting her, however, always proved to be a challenge, as she was always the one that came to him whenever she felt like (case in point, getting kicked out of a Hawaiian cruise and going to New York just because). Jake had Gina’s phone number, and she was always attached to it, so calling her wouldn’t hurt.

Jake looked at the bare stillness of his office, thinking that maybe Gina was in a meeting (as she always was), so  _ maybe _ calling her couldn’t be an option. Strolling around the office, he guessed he could go to her workplace, but she was there almost as often as she was not, making the chances of finding her a solid fifty percent.

_ Fifty percent is better than nothing,  _ he thought, grabbing his things and heading out the door. On the way out, his stare lingered on Amy’s door, since it was slightly ajar. From his vantage point, Jake could see pictures fixed on a corkboard, pins of several colours dotting them. Knowing her, the colours probably meant something, but what he couldn't possibly know.

Before he could snoop on anything else, however, Amy’s silhouette appeared, facing him. Jake’s eyes widened as she stared right at him, putting on an angry face and heading towards the door. He thought she was going to shoot him, but she slammed it shut and locked it tight, the turn of the key so loud that he swore it shook his entire being.

Shaking the feeling off, Jake made his way towards the elevator, slinging the PI badge over his neck and his jacket over his shirt.

* * *

Gina’s building (Jake was almost sure she owned it) was located on the intersection between Thirty First Street and Fifth Avenue, and like many of the other buildings around it, it sure showed its traditional splendour. The sun shone on, making the beige stone lighter in colour, almost like cream you’d pour on a coffee. It stretched tall into the sky, making Jake’s neck complain after he stared at the roof for too long, but it was still a bit smaller compared to the others around it.

Jake hated driving to Manhattan, since the traffic was always hell and parking spots were basically impossible to find, but seeing that his oldest friend basically had the Empire State Building right next to her alleviated some of that, proud of how far she’d gone.

Stepping into the entrance, Jake was surprised of how modest it seemed: even though it was incredibly spacious, simple black tiles covered the walls and floor, the logo of Gina’s company in silver on the left wall (G-Hive was still an odd choice, but it took off). He still wasn’t sure what the company did exactly – he’d heard from her tales from fashion to books, so it was really anyone’s guess – but Gina was beyond a star.

Making his way to the counter, Jake spoke to the first person there.

“Hey, I’m Jake Peralta, close personal friend with Gina Linetti.” He said, flipping the badge on his neck. “Can I speak to her?”

The woman on the counter looked at him up and down, and Jake almost felt scrutinized. “She’s unavailable.”

“I’m sure she can fit me in her schedule.”

The woman sighed. “Mister… Peralta, was it? Miss Linetti is a very busy woman, and I doubt she makes time for people like you.”

Jake had half a mind to snap at her, when a familiar voice shouted from the entrance.

“Clarence!” Gina was in all white, the usual set of sunglasses (or were they different? Jake could never tell). Her skirt wavered while she walked, and her stilettos clacked loudly on the floor. “What did I tell you about random people walking in here?”

“To not immediately reject them.” The woman at the counter said, automatically.

“Good! Work on that attitude, and you’ll go far.” She turned towards Jake and gave him a hug. He returned her warm embrace, a bit bothered when his badge smashed against his ribcage. “Come on, Jake, let’s talk in my office.”

They walked through the security details, Gina giving them a nod, and headed towards the elevators. Bright silver doors welcomed them at the end of the hall, an old but fancy looking floor display on top of them. Jake pressed the elevator button, a bit surprised that no one was around them.

“It’s a private elevator.” She said, as if she was reading his mind. “Only people I trust go through this one.”

“You trust me? That’s cute.” He watched the elevator doors opened, shocked at the decoration inside. The walls were the same shade of brown as the building outside, with leaves drawn inside, a very Darwinian style to them. Engraved in random spots were several handwritten notes, but Jake couldn’t read them, as they were basically scribbles.

“Is that how you pick up girls, Jake? That’s kind of depressing.” She walked into the elevator, acting indifferent at the adorned interior of the elevator. Gina stared at him when he didn’t move, furrowing her brows. “You coming?”

“Yes, yes, sorry. I was just a bit…”

“Mesmerized?”

“Yeah, probably that.” He joined her, and Gina pressed the top floor button. “Why have I never come here, again?”

She shrugged, as the elevator made its smooth ascent to the highest floor. “I never invited you over, you never showed up randomly. I guess it just wasn’t in our plans. Which makes this,” Gina gestured towards his figure. “Even more interesting.”

“Let’s just talk in your office.” Jake scratched the back of his arm, feeling a bit nervous.

She removed her sunglasses and placed them in the purse she was carrying, which was as white as the rest of her outfit. “Feeling nervous? Boy, this must be good.”

He looked at her and gave her a smirk, to which she gave him one back. Sure, sometimes he was nervous around her, but they’d known each other for so long – their whole lives, in fact – that little things like that would never go unnoticed, nor taken too seriously. If there was something to be said, they’d say it, even if it took them time.

The elevator doors opened to show a wide rectangular space, the floor covered with a soft green and red carpet, the walls a white wallpaper. The windows that dotted the space let enough light in that strong sunlight illuminated all of it. There were only five separate spaces, all divided by glass panes. It was clear which office was Gina’s the moment you stepped out of the elevator, as it was straight ahead and by far the largest one. A fancy wooden desk, slightly curved at the edges, was right in the middle, the back to the window that was behind it.

Jake was still recovering from the elevator but seeing her office space made it almost worse.

“I would  _ kill _ for this amount of space!” Jake nearly shouted, when Gina opened the large glass door to her office. “Who do the other offices belong to?”

“Oh, they’re not offices.” Gina said, nonchalantly. “They’re just storage units.”

“But… they have desks?” He cocked his head to the side.

Gina sat in front of her desk and turned on her computer (which was, unsurprisingly, an iMac), mumbling something about how she needed to have at least two office spaces by floor in case something went wrong to the others below.

Jake sat down on her desk and tried to get a peek at her screen, only to be greeted with a mess of spreadsheets and word documents. “Jesus. That’s confusing.”

“Not for the trained eye.” She shooed him off the table, and he obeyed. Lacing her hands together, Gina looked at him and asked the fatal question. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I just spend time with my friend?”

“Is that what you say to Santiago when you need something from her?” She gave him a grin. “Cut the bullshit.”

Jake, still standing (and acutely aware of the lack of chairs on his side), scratched his neck and thought that maybe getting it over with was the wisest decision. She had a pretty severe “no bullshit” attitude, and it went beyond her words.

“I was wondering if you could tell me some things… about someone.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “So specific, Jacob.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands, before reaching for his phone and displaying a picture of him on the screen. “This guy.”

Gina picked it up and looked at the phone for a while, analysing the face for a while. “Am I supposed to know him?”

“Well, he was murdered…” Jake counted with his fingers.  _ He died on the 22 _ _ nd _ _ and today is the 28 _ _ th _ _ which means…  _ “Six days ago.”

“You’re investigating a murder?” She didn’t raise her voice, but he could tell that she was a bit worried. “Are you  _ crazy? _ ”

“Everyone keeps telling me that.”

“By ‘everyone’ do you mean Charles?” Gina gestured for him to shut up before he could answer. “You know what? I don’t care. The more details I know about this, the more suspicious I’ll look.”

“So… you won’t help me?” Jake shifted his feet, a saddened expression on his face.

Gina sighed again, leaning back on her chair. “I didn’t say that, Jacob.”

“So… you  _ will _ help me?” He was confused.

“I’ll try to find as much information as I can but… I’ll have to do it on the down low.” She wiped something from her eye. “Which means it might take a couple of days.”

“Shit.” Jake balled his right hand and swung it in the air tightly. “I know it’s hard but… can’t you make it go faster? If I waste more time–”

“– the murderer could get away. Yes, I’m aware of how things work.” Gina interrupted him.

“I know this is a huge favour to ask…” Jake started, but was unable to finish the sentence, feeling a bit guilty.

“Honestly, honey, I built your business. This is nothing compared to that.” She waved his guilt away. “I think I can do this perfectly fine.” Gina tapped her fingers on the table. “But… I’ll still need at least two days to get proper information. Down low is hard for someone like me.”

He nodded understandably. “I get it.”

“Good. I’ll call you when I know anything.” She focused her attention on the computer when a notification came out from it. “Now get out of my office, I have to work.”

* * *

When he arrived back into his (much smaller, compared to Gina’s) office, he found a handful of emails from Spoll with all the important information she could dig from Jason.

Checking his printer for ink, Jake printed all the files and spread him on his desk, before scratching his head. Having so much information spread out like this was bound to leave him even more confused than usual.

He stared at the map of Brooklyn, now with only two thumbtacks, and looked at them closely. Where could the crime scene be? A better way to search was to… recreate Jason’s routine.

Where did Jason work? He knew where he lived, and both the lots that he was considering were equidistant from his place. Desperately trying to find a connection, Jake bumped into the table and a bunch of papers fell onto the floor. Groaning, he picked them up, reading them in the process.

They were a bunch of receipts, all meaningless shopping that didn’t spark his eye. He placed them on top of his desk, when something caught his eye: two identical receipts for a cheap brand of red wine were right next to each other. He analysed the dates, noticing that they differed  _ exactly _ one week apart.

_ September 1 _ _ st _ _ and September 8 _ _ th _ _ are both Sundays. He was murdered on the 22 _ _ nd _ _ , which… _ He rushed to his calendar, his eyes scanning for the date.  _ Which is Sunday as well. _

Jake thought he might be onto something, but only the receipts would prove it. Quickly flipping through the mess of papers, he tracked down a lot more of receipts like it.

August 25 th , March 17 th , May 19 th … Jake checked his calendar for every single one of those dates, and they were all on a  **Sunday** ** _._ ** Two times was a coincidence, three times is a pattern. More than that, it’s a routine.

Jason bought wine, sometimes red, sometimes white, every single Sunday.  ** _Including September 22_ ** ** _nd_ ** ** _._ **

“Holy fucking shit.” He said, while his hands reached for his forehead. “ _ Fuck _ .”

They were all in the same store as well, a random deli on Fourth Avenue. Jake looked from one of the receipts to his wall and found that only one of the lots was near that street. It was Lot 48, on the intersection of Sackett Street.

Removing the other thumbtack violently (and ripping out a piece of the map in return), Jake added an exclamation mark to the spot, which he was now sure was the crime scene. And now, he also knew something else.

Whoever killed him knew about his routine. They knew that he went to that deli every Sunday to buy wine, and they knew that there was an empty lot near it. This wasn’t just a random execution.

Someone wanted Jason dead.

* * *

Night soon came, and with it, Amy left her office. Jake knew that she had left her office, because he had been spying on her for the last couple of hours.

It wasn’t because he was interested in talking to her – he’d given up on that years ago – but because she had something he needed. Crime scene photos, probably, but more importantly: thousands of photos of Jason’s apartment. They would probably help him link why he had such a bizarre routine, since all his other expenses on his credit card were fairly normal.

So, breaking into her office and taking photos of her photos was probably the smartest idea on his part. And, now that she was gone, he had the perfect opportunity.

Jake walked slowly through the short gap between their doors, almost as if afraid someone would catch him. Getting the lockpick out of his pocket, he took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand, getting a bit impatient when he couldn’t find the proper spots to unlock her door. It took him nearly ten minutes, but he finally managed to get it open.

Looking around for anyone (even though he should’ve done that before  _ starting  _ his lockpicking session), he walked into her office and closed the door behind him. He surveyed her office which, for Amy Santiago standards, was a mess. The photos he saw earlier were still on their corkboard, only they stretched beyond it, glued against the walls, several notes with too many question marks on them. It seemed like she was going insane, and Jake felt a bit worried for her.

Shrugging that feeling aside, he started taking photos of every single thing that he could lay his eyes on (besides the relevant photographs).

It was supposed to be a quick job. In and out.

Jake didn’t expect Amy to come back to her office with a bag from McDonald’s on her hand, catching him so miserably in the act. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t even have time to react, only to stare at her.

She took a second to process what she was seeing, but when she did, the bag dropped on the floor, the contents miraculously staying inside.

“Give me one good reason to not shoot you right now.” She said, bringing her hands to her face.

“That’s a crime?” Jake tried.

“Not good enough of a reason.” Amy pointed one of her fingers towards him, violently thrusting it forward. “What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re  _ doing _ ?”

“Checking out your office?” He tried again, but the evidence was clear. He was still holding the camera in a shooting position, afraid to move.

“Give me your camera.” She stretched her palm towards it. “Now.”

“No!” He shouted, before hiding it behind him. “This was expensive, you’re not touching it.”

“Peralta, I have a gun.” She threatened. “Do you really think it’s wise to go against the wishes of someone with a gun?”

“I’m not giving you my camera.” He stared at her with a defiant look in his eyes. “You were the one who should’ve dropped this case in the first case.”

“Are you kiddin-” Amy interrupted herself, sighing and bringing a hand to her forehead. Jake suddenly noticed how tired she look, and the fleck of worry that came before flickered alive again.

Her composure crumbled, the only thing threatening about her was her stare, which soon was replaced by pure exhaustion. He noticed that her hair was still in its usual ponytail, but there were so many loose strands of hair that it may as well not be there.

“Jake. I’m asking you nicely, delete the photos from your camera.” She said and picked up her food from the floor.

“Amy, I…” He hesitated. She sounded so defeated, and it was getting to him, as much as he refused to admit it.

She closed her eyes and dropped on her armchair. “ _ Please. _ ”

Jake took the opportunity and slid the SD card out of his camera, placing it in his shirt pocket and closing the compartment where it was placed before she could even notice. “Okay, look.” When she opened her eyes again, he showed her the camera screen, the option “format card” highlighted, and pressed the OK button. “It’s done.”

“Thank you.” Amy didn’t even attempt to move from the chair. “If you weren’t such a pain in the ass, I’d honestly think you were a great guy.”

Jake laughed, but it was forced. “I don’t think so.”

“Alright, Peralta.” She said, straightening herself in her chair. “Get out of my office. I need to eat this shitty food and make myself feel better.”

He laughed, and she chuckled a bit. “Will do, ma’am.”

She gestured with her hands. “Scram.”

He left her office with a bow, making sure the door closed behind her. He stepped back into his office and removed the SD card from its place.

He dropped it on top of his desk and stared at it for a long time, wondering if tricking Amy was the best way to go about things. He shook his head and sat down, placing the SD card in his laptop.

* * *

Jake wasn’t going to stay awake most of the night to try and find out clues about Jason. He really wasn’t planning to.

But scanning through the photos took time, especially since he could only take some half information from some, since Amy caught him in the act. Some colour correction was needed, sometimes turning the brightness a bit off or a bit on, amongst other small details. He got so enthralled on the process that, when he looked at his watch, he almost had a heart attack, before realising it was  _ still  _ broken. Then he checked the clock on his computer, only to have less of a scare, this time.

It was nearly 2 AM, and he was still only halfway done. However, he did manage to find something interesting in the photos he took: there was a very odd ring on his bedside table, and Amy managed to take a pretty detail shot of it. It looked like it was made of worn silver, some green speckles of corrosion – was it rust? Jake didn’t know – throughout its frame. Some sort of a vine design was on the front of it, a fancy “I” or “J” engraved in front of it. Since it was manuscript, Jake couldn’t really tell.

The funny thing about it is that he remembered seeing a ring  _ just _ like it a few months ago, when he was investigating someone from a very noteworthy gang in New York: the Ianucci gang. So, he was almost positive that it was an “I”, and Jason was somehow involved with the Italian mafia.

Jake said goodbye to the Jason-was-a-good-guy theory, as to be involved with any mafia made you pretty much a bad person on sight. Still, something continuously felt off.

He grabbed his phone and called one of his mafia CI’s, hoping they’d be awake at this time of the night. The first two didn’t pick up, and the third one left the phone ringing for so long that Jake was about to hang up and try another one, when he picked up. He told Jake that he had some nerve to bother him at that time of the night, but since he was awake, he may as well give him what he wanted. After setting a place to meet, Jake jogged out the door and made his way to the spot.

The location was on a warehouse by the pier, overlooking the Hudson. The river seemed to be particularly troubled that night, as the wind was harsh and the crashing waves so loud that Jake wondered how anyone could sleep near it on days like these.

He didn’t want to go inside the warehouse alone, since no one knew where he was. If there were some mob bosses inside it, he was not about to risk his life over a stupid ring and a gut feeling he had. Instead, he waited for his CI out on the cold and damp cement floor, leaning on a railing and staring at the city line.

His phone dinged a while after, showing him a message that made him panic.

**GET OUT.**

Jake didn’t waste any time running to his car, but before he could reach it, a door from the warehouse next to him swung open and the unmistakable glitter of a gun shined out from the person’s arm. Eyes wide, Jake dived behind a cement block right as the shots started echoing out.

“Shit!” He mumbled, unholstering his gun and holding it tight against his chest.

“Come out here, you filthy cop!” The person, whose voice sounded like one of a man’s, threatened.

“I’m not a cop!” Jake shouted back, moving to a different cement block and grimacing when he scraped his shoulder on the pavement.

“Then what’s the badge around your neck, huh?”

“God fucking damn it.” He said to himself, attempting to rub the pain away from his shoulder. “I really have to stop wearing my badge like this.”

Another shot echoed out, and Jake ducked on instinct, only for his mind to go into overdrive when he realised that it had come from his left side. He moved his gun above his head and pulled the trigger, yelling “Back off!” as a warning to anyone that could’ve been near him. Someone shot back in response, and he ducked again, looking around desperately for more cover.

In front of him were two other warehouses, so close to one another that the space between them almost didn’t allow a person to be there. The key word here was  _ almost. _ Jake was pretty sure someone was there, and he pointed the gun to that spot. He pulled the trigger again, this time aimed towards the metallic wall right next to that spot.

From behind him he could hear more commotion, but trying to steal a glance was probably suicide, as they’d shoot him if they saw even the tiniest glimpse of his hair. He looked to his car, which was across the street, parked in the shadows of a streetlamp. If he could just get there…

The problem was that the cement blocks didn’t stretch out towards the road, and getting up and running was, once again, suicide. No matter how he looked at it, there was no escape.

Jake was trapped behind a muddy cement block, getting shot at by the mafia. This wasn’t how he thought he was going to die, but Death did come in the most unpredictable moments.

That’s when yet another shot came from in front of him, making the guys behind him yell out in confusion.

“There’s another one with him!” Jake heard them yelling. “Get her!”

_ Who are they talking about? I didn’t bring anyone with me! _ He thought, before seeing a silhouette on that tiny gap between buildings gesturing for him to come near.

A silhouette that, with the light of some random gunshots, showed a face filled with determination. The face of Amy Santiago.

“Jake!” She yelled. “Get here,  _ now!”  _ Amy pulled the trigger on her gun and the men behind him shouted once again, but it seemed to be more confusion than pain. She wasn’t aiming to kill.

On all fours, Jake dragged himself from out of his cover as quickly as he could, scraping his knees and elbows and forever ruining his shirt and jeans, but he didn’t care. He went to her as fast as he could, and when she let out a last gunshot and went back on that tiny alleyway, Jake stood up and followed her, a shot narrowly missing his calf.

“Holy shit.” He gasped for breath, even though the distance hadn’t been that long. “Fuck. What are you doing here?”

“Let’s get out of here first, ask questions later.” She said.

He nodded and followed her through the squeezed passageway and, once they were safely on the other side of the warehouse, Amy gestured for him to follow her. They ran for two blocks, constantly looking over their shoulders when random shots were heard, but they seemed to have eluded the mafia.

Amy panted and pointed towards a car which Jake assumed was hers. She unlocked the door with her key and stepped inside, barely giving him time to close his door when her foot was already on the gas pedal, speeding out of the pier.

“Oh my fucking god. That was  _ too  _ close.” Jake watched as the street lamps fled past him, still breathing heavily. “Did you run out of ammo?”

“Nearly.” Amy wasn’t breathing as heavily as him, but he could tell she was still shaken from the ordeal. “I got there just in time.”

“Tell me about it. I thought I was gonna die there!” He was aware that he was being a bit too loud, but adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, so calming down didn’t really seem like a viable option.

She seemed the same, though, as she barraged him with questions. “What were you doing in such a mob filled place, Peralta? And wearing your badge like that? You’re absolutely suicidal.”

“I have a better, more important question. What were  _ you  _ doing there?”

“Pertinent, not important.” Amy corrected without thinking. “And I don’t owe you any explanations.”

Jake groaned and brought his hands to his hair, when a realisation dawned on him. “Santiago, you followed me!”

“Only because you stole my photos!” She yelled back, her attention still focused on the road.

“I told you I deleted them!”

“I’m not an idiot, Peralta!” She took a deep breath and lowered her tone. “I know that you took the SD card out of the camera before formatting the camera.” Amy shook her head and tucked a random loose hair behind her ear. “I’ve been pretty much stuck since the P.O. box, so I thought following you with whatever you found would be a good idea.”

“So you admit it! I knew it!” He pointed a finger at her.

“You just basically said you stole from me, you know that, right?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny.”

Amy sighed, and the rest of the ride was quiet, only the humming of the engine filling the silence between them. Jake wasn’t sure if he should be so harsh to her considering that, well, she had just saved his life, but her following him felt like a betrayal.

He turned his face towards the glass and thought a lot about what to say to her when she dropped him off at the office building (she didn’t know where he lived, so Jake guessed that that’s where she was driving them), but his mind came up blank. What was he supposed to say? Sorry for stealing your photos and thanks for saving my life? Amy didn’t exactly inspire much confidence from his part, so it would sound ridiculous to even try to say something like that.

Still, he could try. He did still feel guilty, and maybe they could finally reach an understanding on the case.

When Amy killed the engine on the doorsteps of the office building, Jake turned around, only to see her resting her head on the steering wheel. It was almost adorable, if they weren’t both so exhausted, the adrenaline rush clearly wore them out.

“Look-” Amy started.

“I wanted to-” Jake started at the exact same time.

“You first.” She said.

“No, you can go ahead.”

“Jake, shut up and talk.”

“That’s confusing. Do you want me to shut up or talk?” He quipped, trying to lighten the air.

Amy’s face almost said “Really, Jake? You want to do this now?”, so he cleared his throat and began talking.

“I wanted to uh… apologize, I guess. Sorry for taking away evidence from you, which I could’ve taken as well if you weren’t so loud in Jason’s apartment.”  _ Title of her sex tape? _ He bit the inside of his cheek, keeping that comment to himself. “So yeah, that was a bit of a dick move and I can’t say that I was justified.”

Amy sighed and looked at him. “Yeah, sorry about me stalking to you too. I uh… it wasn’t right on my end to withhold information which you should have access to in the first place.”

Jake looked at her, trying to read her face, only to come up empty. “Glad we’re on the same page then.”

“Yeah.” She gave him a small smile. “Me too.”

He smiled at her back and opened the door of her car. She shivered a bit when the cold air came inside and, with one foot dangling above the sidewalk, Jake had a crazy idea.

He closed the door again and looked at her and asked her what was on his mind before he lost all his bravery. “Let’s work on this together.”

“What?” She looked at him, confused.

“Let’s work on this. Jason’s murder. Together.”

“Jake, I don’t…”

“Look.” He balled one of his hand into a fist. “All we’re doing is getting in each other’s way. Maybe tonight was a sign from whatever entity is out there that…” Jake gulped. “That maybe we should work on this together. Without you there I… I would’ve died, Amy.”

“I…” Amy looked at him, clearly taking his words into consideration. “I don’t know.” Jake’s disappointment must’ve been clear on his face, because she started talking again. “But you’re right. We are trampling each other here, and that’s not helping anyone.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Alright, fine. We’ll work on this together.”

“Yes!” He shouted, raising one of his palms into the air.

She brought her hands to her head. “Jake, it’s 3 AM. Not the time for enthusiastic yells.”

“Sorry.” Still, Jake looked at her and his palm, and she gave in, high fiving him.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow better. But for now,” She put her hands back on the steering wheel. “Let me drop you home.”

Before Jake could protest, she raised her finger. “You’ll pay for the gas, don’t worry.”

Jake grinned and gave off his address, letting Amy drive him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally united efforts!
> 
> AGAIN, A million thanks to Les for editing my chapter and tolerating me.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! <3


	7. Set Of Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy cooperate, though hesitantly. An important discovery is made about Jason's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long to update! uni just started and things have been chaotic. Hoping to get back on track with the updates, though!

“Amy, come on. We’ve been at this for hours.” Jake said, puffing air out of his nose loudly.

The morning of the 29 th was proving to be one of the warmest days of the year, and Amy was already sweating a bit too much underneath her pantsuit. “Jake, it’s been half an hour. Shut up and let me think.”

Despite the heat, they were outside, on a coffee shop near their office building, sitting on some generic metal tables that glowed in patterns according to where your eyes were. The silver chairs they were in were also nothing short of generic, but the place served some damn good coffee, something which both Amy and Jake agreed on.

“Even if it has been half an hour – which I doubt, by the way,” Amy rolled her eyes at this, and Jake couldn’t help but grin a little. “That doesn’t mean you’re going to be able to add more items to your precious list there.”

He pointed to the notebook Amy had on top of the table, where she’d managed to write two rules.

“A comprehensible set of rules is important while discussing a professional partnership!” Amy tried to throw a napkin at his face, but a slight breeze pushed it back against her face, making her spit it out. Jake laughed at this, but stopped soon thereafter, seeing as her death glare was actually quite scary.

“You sound like a maniac. Take a breath, we’ve known each other for years. I don’t think a minor… what did you say?”

“Comprehensible set of rules?”

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t think that’s gonna change how we work together. Whatever we do, it’ll flow naturally.”

“You’re certainly hopeful.” Amy crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “You use the argument ‘we’ve known each other for years’ as a pro, I see it as a con.”

“Oh really?” Jake leaned forward, a curious look in his eye. “Please, explain yourself.”

“Six words.”

“Are we playing charades?”

She rolled her eyes again and ignored his comment. “We get on each other’s nerves.”

He dutifully counted her words, pulling a surprised face when he found out that it was an accurate assessment. “I don’t know if I should be more impressed with the fact that you got the number of words right or if you’re dead wrong on your argument.”

“That’s it, I’m adding that to the list.”

“Adding  _ what? _ ‘Don’t get on each other’s nerves’?”

Amy wrote the rule as fast as she could, before setting the pen on top of the paper and flipping the notebook around so he could see. After adding his own notes, Jake turned it back around and slid it near her, allowing her to read the final product.

<strike>**Rule 1:** _Share everything. _**_Everything, Santiago?_**</strike>

<strike>**Rule 1 (addendum):** _Share all professional things. _**_What’s professional to you?_**</strike>

**Rule 1 (definitive version):** _Share all professional details pertaining to Jason’s case. _<strike>**_Nothing else?_**</strike>

**Rule 2:** _No taking any more cases while we’re doing this. _**_Sounds dumb but ok_**

**Rule 3:** _No quipping, rather, Jake Peralta can’t quip. _**_This is just plain torture_**

** **

“Do you agree with this list?” She asked, but it was less of a question and more of an affirmation.

“I have to vehemently object to rules two and three.” He complained.

“Okay, so…” Amy drew two perfectly straight lines and signed on one of them, giving Jake the pen to sign on the other. He sighed, but signed it anyway, complaining the whole time about how doing lists on things like these were dumb.

Amy signed, closed the notebook and shoved it back in her messenger bag. Waving her hands to try and ward off some of the heat, she looked back at Jake, who seemed unaffected by the temperature, even when he was wearing a plaid shirt with a hoodie on top.

“How are you not dying?” Before he could reply, Amy raised a finger and continued. “Remember, rule number three. You signed on it.”

“It’s not an official contract.” He countered.

“I can make it official.”

“I’d have to sign it again.” He challenged her. “You can’t make me do it.”

“I can forge your signature now, dumbass.” Jake’s eyes widened with the revelation, but she dispelled his worried by saying she’d never do something like that.

After paying for their small bill (and leaving a pretty generous tip to compensate), they made their way back to their offices, Amy trying to ignore all the heat surrounding her, pleased when a cool breeze made its way towards them.

They decided to separate and clean out each other’s office before agreeing on which one would be the base of operations, so, after closing her office door, Amy started organizing her digital files immediately, ignoring the photos and papers strewn all over her desk and walls (there was nothing on her floor because she didn’t want to risk stepping on important evidence).

She quickly labelled everything and put them in its proper files, cursing her efficiency. Why couldn’t she just go slow on something, for once? Truth was, Amy didn’t want to stare at those pictures again. She was tired of not being able to see things there, even though it was supposed to be her job reading between the lines. Was it between the pixels, in this case?

Groaning, Amy put on her headphones and blasted a random soundtrack from a movie, zoning out and cleaning up her place.

* * *

Lunch hour came and went, Amy none the wiser to it passing. The only reason she stopped cleaning was because she heard a knock on the door and smelled something that made her stomach growl.

“I’m bringing food, Santiago!” She heard him yell after taking off her headphones. “Maybe it’s a peace offering!”

She opened the door and raised an eyebrow at him. “Rule number three, Peralta.” However, she nudged him inside, and soon they were both sitting on opposite sides of her desk, opening one of the two pizza boxes he had brought.

“I’m starving.” She said, and nearly moaned when she bit it one of the slices. “Fuck, this is  _ good. _ ”

“I know, right! I even brought a hot one for you.” Jake said, opening the other box and taking a slice.

“What are you saying?” She asked, in between bites.

“Oh, I like pizza to be display temperature.”

She grimaced. “Ugh, you like cold pizza?”

He immediately went on the defensive. “It’s not  _ cold _ , it’s display temperature!”

They argued about what better temperature a pizza slice should be in, and then moved on to other things after Jake slammed his hands against her desk and she told him to back off. They talked about things they usually didn’t talk about, such as their cameras, their favourite bug types and, finally, hobbies.

“I just finished re-reading Harry Potter the other day.” Amy said, cleaning off her fingers from the grease with a napkin. “I still love them!”

“Cool. I’ve only read like… fifteen books in my life, so.” He trailed off, licking his fingers.

Amy nearly choked on her slice. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What?” Jake cocked his head to the side, as if he hadn’t said something ridiculous.

“You’ve only read  _ fifteen  _ books in your entire adult life?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Oh my god.” She brought one of her hands to her forehead, looking at him in disbelief. “You’re my worst nightmare.”

“That’s a weird nightmare to have.”

“Shut up.”

They kept up their playful banter, the thin line of professional and personal getting more and more blurry as the lunch went on. Amy found herself realising how familiar it all was – it felt cosy and warm, like her and Jake had been partners for a decade. It was such a weird feeling to have because, well, it was Jake she was talking about, the most immature person she knew.

Yet, she couldn’t deny that he made her laugh consistently, especially when he went on tangents about the cases he solved, and waited until she had a rebuttal to throw at him. They always talked about things like these, but it was at Shaw’s, and it happened once a month, tops.

Here she was, though, hanging out with Jake for the third day in a row, trying to solve the biggest case of her PI career. That wasn’t a big deal, though. Right?

Amy shook those thoughts out of her mind, cleaning her fingers on the napkins that Jake had brought for them to use. Thinking about her relationship with him was always a mess, and she avoided it as much as possible.

_ Why is it a mess, though? _ She thought, after closing the cardboard box.

Jake was still finishing up his pizza, licking his fingers to get every single piece of the thing in his mouth. Amy grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”

He stopped mid lick and looked at her, a curious look in his eye. After removing his hand from his mouth, he finally replied. “You have to get every last bit of the pizza, Santiago. Otherwise, what’s it for?”

“That’s basically just grease. You’re eating – no,  _ licking  _ – grease.”

“It tastes good, so who cares what it is?” He shrugged.

“That’s how poisonous berries work.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, done with Jake’s nonsense.

“It is? Oh man I’ve got to eat some, then.”

“Rule number three, Peralta.” Amy warned, booping his nose as if it were a button to shut him up.

The message didn’t go through. “How was  _ that  _ quipping?”

“Don’t even deny it!”

They kept arguing until he finished eating, but Amy didn’t feel the spite and anger she felt the last time they argued. A levity had settled between them, something she was still suspicious of. Was it simply Jake’s way of being, or was it something else?

She nearly brought her hands to her head and groaned, confused about everything. Things used to be simple: Jake hated her, she hated him. Sure, they hung out at bars sometimes or played darts or pool or whatever, but it didn’t mean they were  _ friends. _

_ Friends  _ don’t make your life hell.  _ Friends  _ don’t take things away from you.  _ Friends  _ don’t try to be ahead of you every step of the way.

“Rule number one, Santiago.” Jake said, snapping her out of her daze.

“Huh?” She looked at him, and realised he was holding one of the photos she took.

“Just reminding you of our agreement.” He said, and looked at the picture closely. “Any idea why Jason had an Ianucci ring?”

“That’s an Ianucci ring? Wait,” She realised something and pointed a finger at him. “You were caught in a mafia shootout?”

“…maybe?”

This time, she did bring her hands to her head. “Oh my god, how are we alive? They’re going to hunt us down. I need to… I need to start taking precautions.”

Her mind was already running calculations, before being interrupted by Jake placing one of his arms on her desk and wincing, making her play back the events of the previous night.

“How are the elbows and knees?” She asked, knowing full well they were probably still healing from rubbing on asphalt so quickly.

“They’re doing fine.” He lied, and tried to hide away his arms on the armrest of the chair he was in. “I’m fine.”

“Did you go get your car back, at least?” Amy pressed, not sure how far she could go until she could break the soft (Friendly? Warm?) air between them. The fact that she was thinking about it was probably reason enough for it to already be broken.

Jake simply shook his head, and they fell into silence, which felt heavier than usual. Amy didn’t say anything for a long time, hoping to find a way to clench the fear that she was certain was gripping him. It’s not like she wasn’t scared either (she was terrified, but she’d never say it), but trying to comfort Jake felt like such a useless thing. He was always happy, or at least goofing off.

Silence didn’t fit him. Silence didn’t fit  _ them. _ And if it ever did, it certainly wasn’t like this.

Without thinking twice, she took her gun and badge out of the safe and grabbed her car keys, standing from her spot. Jake looked at her and frowned, the sun that was over his face now covered by her shadow.

“Come on.” She said, nudging him to get up. “Let’s go get your car back.”

“Isn’t it a bit too soon to do that?” He sounded cautious.

Amy found herself shrugging, which astounded even her. “We’ll be careful. Come on, I’m tired of staying in my office all day moping about some pictures I won’t understand.”

A hesitant grin slowly formed on his face, and Amy was a bit proud at that.

“Alright.” He stood up from his chair. “Let’s go.”

They went out the door of her office, and after locking the door, Amy asked a simple question.

“We’ve got each other’s back from now on, right?”

He nodded. “Partners.”

“Partners.”

* * *

Getting Jake’s car back proved to be fairly easy, mostly because they were so cautious. Amy parked her car a few blocks away from the pier, in a busy parking lot where it wouldn’t raise suspicion. After sneaking onto a rooftop of a building near the warehouses (it wasn’t as hard as Amy thought it’d be, the security inside was terrible), they surveyed the area for any suspicious activity.

Jake somehow had a full stash of gummy worms in his hoodie and was eating them periodically, which made Amy wonder if he did that when he was stressed or if it was a normal occurrence. A second bag of gummy bears that slowly made its way out of the other pocket basically confirmed it was the former.

“There’s no activity.” She said, bringing her binoculars down. “Only random passersby, none seem shady or mafia-like.” She stole a gummy worm from Jake’s bag, earning a loud protest from him in return. “I think it’s safe for you to go get it. Or, you know, get it back.”

“Title of your sex tape.”

“Rule three, Peralta.”

Jake rolled his eyes, perching himself on the wall behind him. They were sitting down near the large stone walls that covered the entrance to the roof, trying to catch the shade to hide them from the heat of the day. It was getting a bit colder, though, which Amy found a bit odd but didn’t exactly mind.

It was still hot enough to make her remove her jacket and be in her shirt only, which she could almost feel was drenched in sweat at this point. Jake either ignored it or didn’t care, and Amy was thankful for that. She didn’t need another person breathing down her neck.

After Jake sneaked into his car, he picked Amy up and drove them to the parking lot where her car was located, parking it a few spots away from hers.

“Alright, we have to deep check this shit.” She said, after leaving the oven that was his car and stepping out onto the fresh shade of the lot. “We don’t know what anyone’s done with it.”

“This baby?” He slapped the roof of the vehicle, and it groaned in response. “It’s safe, trust me.”

“Because no one wants this piece of garbage?” She crossed her arms, raising one eyebrow.

“Hey! It’s not garbage, it has  _ problems. _ Also,” He pointed a finger at her. “Rule number three, Santiago.”

She shook her head. “That only applies to you, buddy. We signed on it.”

“Well I’m changing it now that you can’t make fun of me as well. This was too one sided anyway.”

Amy rolled her eyes and went to the trunk, opening it and starting her search.

They worked quickly, and the pair didn’t find any bugs or trackers, so the car was in the clear. Amy did find a wild assortment of items, though, from an expired packet of mac and cheese in the glove box to some random keychain underneath the seat carpets. She chose to ignore them, leaving them be for the time being. Maybe he’d clean it up later (she knew he wouldn’t, but hope really is the last to die, and Amy carried that in buckets).

Jake got in his car when all was deemed as safe by both of them, ready to drive off to the office again. Before he shifted the gear in reverse, however, he looked at Amy.

“Thanks.” It sounded so earnest, Amy couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You’re welcome. It’s what partners do, right?”

Jake smiled back at her. “Right. Partners.”

Before she could reply, he drove off, leaving her alone in the cool shade of the parking lot.

* * *

“You did  _ what?”  _ Amy yelled and slammed her hands on her desk.

“It was a good idea at the time, okay? I’m sorry, I really am.” Jake recoiled at the strength of her slam, and she had to pretend like her hands weren’t aching from the impact.

“You… you absolute…” She brushed her hair with her hands. “God, I don’t even know what to call you!”

Hours had passed since Jake had gotten his car back, and Amy had managed to clean everything in her office up and stack her information in nice and neat folders. These files threatened to fall off the table, though, as Jake had so much paper that Amy was surprised.

She asked him how he had gotten so much information on Jason, to which Jake simply muttered something about Spoll and then widened his eyes and clasped his hands around his mouth. After threatening him with a multitude of lawsuits, he gave up and told her the truth about how he had asked Spoll to block information from her.

“No wonder I didn’t have any progress!”

“Hey!” Jake yelled back at her. “You hid the crime scene photos away from  _ me!” _

“Do I have to remind you that you stole them anyway?”

Jake was about to reply but seemed to think against it. Leaning against one of her shelves, he sighed and covered his eyes. “Let’s just move on. It doesn’t make sense to hold on to this.”

Amy backed down, and felt a bit sorry for him. “Right, rule number one. We now have all the puzzle pieces. All we have to do is…” She hesitated, looking at the receipts Jake had pointed out.

“…piece them together.” He finished, returning to her side.

“The smart thing to do would be to talk to the person who runs the deli, right?”

“I thought about that, but it’s probably a different person at the time Jason bought the wine. Sunday night shifts are always shit, so the people who work there probably shift around.”

Amy looked at the receipts again. “Sunday. Why is it always a Sunday?”

“I don’t know. Last day of the weekend? A way to close-slash-begin the week?”

Amy shook her head. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would you get drunk  _ every  _ Sunday if you work the next day?”

“You’re assuming Jason worked.”

“Well, he did  _ something. _ ”

They kept discussing about whether or not to question the deli shop and Amy won out in the end, making Jake a bit frustrated. He told her he had a gut feeling about the shop being a dead end, and she told him that her gut was telling her otherwise.

“Your last gut feeling nearly got you killed.” Amy pointed out.

“For the last time, that was bad luck!”

“Luck doesn’t exist, Jake. You either know what you’re doing or you’re not. And come on,” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Trust me. For now, at least.”

He sighed. “Alright fine, we’ll do what you want. But I still think it’s useless.”

He picked up her hands in his and gently took them out of their place. After releasing them, Amy had a little nagging thought that said at her that she missed the warmth of his hands, but it passed by so fast she thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Deli time!” He said.

She rolled her eyes. “You certainly sound excited for going to a place you think is a dead end.”

“A deli is still a deli, Santiago. You can buy all kinds of things there.” He stepped out of her office and waited until she locked the door before continuing. “Also, title of your sex tape.”

She turned around and slapped his shoulder, hard. “Rule three!”

“It was right there!”

“That was the third time today! I’ve got to put one of those bracelets on you that sends you a shock every time I press a button.”

“That’s kind of hot.”

Amy puffed air out from her nose loudly and walked towards the elevator, a snickering Jake following close behind her.

* * *

The shop looked a lot nicer on the inside than on the outside, which caught Amy off guard. It was spacious, way more spacious than a glorified food store should be. Opening the small glass door showed you two white tiled aisles with bright lights showing all its contents, which ranged from fruit to – and she expected it – wine. It wasn’t all cheap wine, too, there were some pretty expensive bottles here and there, one that even caught her eye.

“Is that Chardonnay?” Jake asked, next to her.

“What? No, they don’t sell Chardonnay here.”

“Hey!” He picked up what seemed like a random bottle of wine. “There’s one here!”

“Are you kidding?” She looked at what he was holding. “Holy shit, that actually appears to be real.”

“Have you seen how well this place is kept?” Jake whispered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s like… a watered down version of the actual wine.”

Amy frowned but kept whispering. “Chardonnay is a kind of grape, Jake.”

“What? Shut up.” After seeing her serious face, his jaw dropped. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Well, yeah.” She returned her voice to her normal volume and returned the bottle that was on his hands to its place, much to his protests. “I think I might know a bit more about this than you.”

Jake scoffed. “Nerd.”

“Proudly.”

Amy made her way back to the counter near the door that leads to the street, making sure that her ponytail swung hard enough to hit Jake in the face. His gagging sounds confirmed her suspicion, making her smile.

“Hello, I was wondering if I could ask you something.” Amy asked the woman that was at the counter, resting her hands on it.

She rolled her eyes, before replying. “No, we don’t have weed. You cops really should hide yourselves better.”

“I’m not a cop!” Amy exclaimed, before clearing her throat herself and adjusting her coat. “I’m not part of the NYPD.”

“You sure look like it, Santiago.” Jake said, pointing at the badge on her belt. “That shiny silver doesn’t fool anyone.”

Amy flipped his chain backwards, showing his badge in full glory. “Guess we’re both caught, then.”

“Wait…” The woman at the counter interrupted their petty argument, squinting her eyes. “Aren’t police badges gold?”

“Ding ding, miss.” Jake wagged his finger. “We’re private investigators, here on a mission. So, if you could tell us about this man…” He reached for Jason’s photo that was in his pants, unfolding it and sliding it across the counter surface. “We’d appreciate it.”

She picked it up and looked at it for a while, before snorting. “Yeah, I know him. Came in every Sunday.”

_ Jackpot.  _ Amy thought. “Mind telling us anything else about him?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Jake grabbed his wallet and counted some notes. “Five bucks?”

She pointed towards the door with her head. “Scram.”

“Please miss, I’m sure you can tell us anything.” Amy tried reasoning with her. “It’s quite the scandal.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows.

Amy nodded. “Uh-huh. He may have been cheating on his  _ wife _ .”

“He was  _ married?” _ Jake asked, and Amy slapped his arm.

“Sorry, he has the tendency for the dramatic.”

Still rubbing his arm from where she had hit him, Jake complained. “I do  _ not!” _

“Alright, fine. I’ll talk so both of you shut up and leave the store.”

The pair looked at each other but ignored the comment. Amy picked up her small notebook and flipped the case off expertly. Jake raised his eyebrows, and Amy smiled, wondering if he was impressed by her technique.

The woman at the counter didn’t give them much information that they weren’t aware of: Jason came in every Sunday, bought a bottle of cheap wine and would always pay with his debit card. Sometimes he came in with someone else, though, and this piqued their curiosity.

Pressing her for further information, they got a vague description of him. He was African American, with short hair, maybe six feet, but she wasn’t sure since she never really counted. The details on his face were so vague that they might have just picked up the most common face in the world and left it at that.

They left the deli as the sun started setting, the orange hues reflecting off the windows that made them seem like pillars of light instead of concrete and steel.

“That was a dead end, as I thought.” Jake said, when they reached her car. Amy had driven them there, and he made sure to leave a few bucks for the gas on the way over, much to her insistence.

“Not necessarily.” She said, ignoring the fact that he had set up his feet on the dashboard. Normally, it would bother her, but her mind was already working like gears clicking with each other and spinning around, trying to think of a plan. “We now know that he had a friend – probably close, since he joined him in these late-night benders.”

“One bottle of wine isn’t a ‘bender’.” He made sure to exaggerate his air quotes, which Amy was sure was just to annoy her. “It’s for a date.”

“You think they were dating?”

Jake shrugged, but added to his train of thought. “Well, all of the people I talked to basically said that he hadn’t had any girlfriends – not any serious ones, anyway.”

“That’s not really a justification.”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t base myself off of that.” He sighed, crossing his arms. “I just wish we had access to his brain.”

They stayed like that, sat in the car and not talking, watching the sun slowly go down over the city and the streetlamps flickering to life, their minds working apart.

* * *

“So, what do we do now?” Jake was lying down on the armrest of both chairs, in a position that was no doubt hurting his back immensely. Amy didn’t question him though: if he wanted to get arthritis by the age of thirty, that was on him.

They were back in her office which Jake had called their new base of operations. Amy tried to protest, but upon seeing the state of  _ his  _ office, she just managed to mumbleto him to bring the important information to her place.

The slightly ripped map of Brooklyn was right in front of her desk, duct taped to the shelves of random bookshelves. Random photos were strewn about her desk and, somehow, they had managed to get on the floor. She swore that picking papers up with Jake around was like cutting heads out of the Hydra: you put above the desk and two more appeared on the floor.

After placing another photo on top of her desk and meticulously adjusting it to the others surrounding it, she sighed and replied to him. “We go home and rest.”

“Isn’t your blood like… pumping?” He was still staring at the ceiling, unaware of Amy’s efforts to keep her office clean.

“Your blood is always pumping, Jake.”

“Okay, nerd, hear me out.” Jake tried shuffling himself from his spot, but the chairs spread apart and he landed hard on the wooden floor with his butt. Yelping, he got up and rubbed his lower back, grimacing from the impact.

As soon as he collided on the floor, Amy was cackling loudly, hindered by her hand covering her mouth. When Jake opened his mouth to talk, all pretences of trying to hide the laughter vanished, she clutched her belly and laughed loudly. At first, he looked at her a bit offended, but soon joined in with her.

They laughed for a long time, gasping for breath. Amy had to sit down on the armchair, and she shrugged off her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. Jake grabbed onto an archive for support and blinked away the dampness that was surrounding his eyes.

“Oh my God.” Amy said, waving her hands in front of her face to try and breathe some fresh air. “I needed that.”

Jake only nodded in response, seemingly unable to form any coherent words.

Moments like these made Amy wonder. Wonder about how it would be to have Jake as her partner in the PI scene. Instead of a rivalry, could they have a friendship?

But the moment soon passed, and her contacts started annoying her eyes. Jake lifted himself up and cleared his throat, and she went by him to pick up the case for her lenses. After taking them from her eyes expertly (she didn’t need a mirror anymore, since she had been doing it from basically youth), Amy stored them and groped on the shelf next to the office door for her glasses. Putting them on, she heard a gasp coming from Jake’s side.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Peralta.” She replied, trying to make her way back to her desk, only to be interrupted by his presence. “What?”

“Let me try them. Just to see how blind you are.”

Amy’s heart leaped. Why did it leap? “No, you’ll stretch out the frame.”

“Our faces are basically the same size.”

“They are  _ not! _ ”

Jake kept nagging her, not letting Amy get things her way. After five minutes of incessant talking, she gave in and handed her glasses to him. He yelped in happiness and put them on, only to open his eyes widely and nearly removing them immediately.

“Wow you are  _ blind,  _ blind!” He said.

“I never said otherwise. Now please, give them back to me. I need those glasses to see.”

He took them out and handed them back, which she gladly accepted and put back on her face. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything back, opting to just scratch the back of his neck. Amy noticed this was a pattern with him, mostly when he seemed nervous or tired. She opted to think it was the latter rather than the former. What would he be nervous about?

She picked up her things and shoved them in her messenger bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Jake stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, as if trying to decide what to do.

“Come on,” Amy suggested, and picked up a few more photographs from her desk, some which she knew she hadn’t looked at yet. “Let’s have dinner at my place.”

He beamed. “I bet your house is decorated like one of those old people’s homes.” He stretched his index finger and thumb underneath his chin and raised one eyebrow, in a pose that was so exaggerated, it made Amy roll her eyes at him. “Do you own a set of china’s?”

Amy simply sighed.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

She punched his arm. “Do you want to brainstorm or not?”

“We’re talking brainstorming, now? I thought you were just asking me out.”

“Why would I invite you to my house on the first date?”

“Because I’m irresistible?”

Amy raised one finger, almost as a warning. “Rule number one, Peralta.”

“Yes, yes, keep it professional, yada, yada.” He put on a serious face, so goofy that it nearly made Amy chuckle. “I am the most professional man you have ever met.”

“Says the guy who tried to fuck half of his client list.” Amy teased, knowing exactly how to mess with him.

“I did  _ not  _ do that!”

She ignored him and shooed him out of her office, urging him to get ready to leave. He bolted to his office and, by the time she was locking the door, he was by the elevator waving his hands.

She didn’t ask how he did everything so fast, and he never gave an answer.

* * *

Amy’s place was, in fact, decorated in a very old-person-kind-of way. She  _ did  _ have a china set (which Jake mocked her relentlessly for) but, in her defence, they looked nice. The couch had a white rag covering the top of it, with fancy endings to it that seemed like raindrops. Amy was sitting on the couch and Jake was playing with the rag on the floor, having removed it from its spot. Photos were spread all around him, distributed in a way that made it seem like the chalk lines one would put over a dead body.

When Amy looked at Jake, Jason’s face suddenly overlapped with his, and she pictured Jake dead in the empty lot, blood pouring out of both of his wounds. In her imagination, however, she was holding the gun that killed him, and smug smile spread across her face.

She gasped and dropped the photo that was on her hands, blinking the image out of her mind.

“What is it?” He asked, his fingers stopping its motion.

Amy shook her head but talked anyway. “I keep… I keep picturing him dead. Lying there on the ground, trying to catch a glimpse of the person who would end his life. I don’t… I don’t think I was made for this.”

He was silent for a moment, searching for the right words. “Yeah, I don’t think I was made for this either.”

She rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses before looking at him. “That’s bullshit.”

“What?”

“This.” She pointed to the strewn pictures on the floor and on the coffee table. “It’s bullshit. Who thought hiring PI’s to solve homicides was a good idea? We were  _ obviously  _ not made for this, but whatever, it pays, right?” Jake simply fixed his eyes on her, as if allowing her to keep going. Amy appreciated it, because she didn’t stop her rant. “I hate this shitty world and this shitty job. You know, once upon a time, I wanted to be a detective. But after seeing what my dad went through, I gave up on that dream, because I wanted to control my world. Have a business and control my cases, hours.

“It all went downhill so fast. Why did I let it get this far? I should’ve joined the Academy, hopefully made my way to Captain when I was nearing my forties. But here I am, nearly thirty, single, saving every single penny I can so I have a decent retirement, and I’m still in scraps. I hate this. I hate this case and this man and his obscure family and–”

She stopped herself, staring at a picture that was on the floor, slightly covered by Jake’s leg.

He seemed to be asking her something, but Amy didn’t hear him. Her ears were buzzing with excitement and some gears were turning in her head, more than before. Puzzle pieces were fitting.

“I know that face.” She managed to say, after feeling a hand on her shoulder. “I swear I know it.”

She picked it up off the floor and stared at it more intently. It was a picture of Jason’s fridge back at his apartment. It was mostly filled with to do lists and notes stuck with magnets, but there was a photo there. She at first paid no mind to it, assuming it was a generic trip photo you took when you went with your friends.

But she knew a face in it. And it wasn’t Jason.

It was a photo of four people with their arms slung around their shoulders, smiling towards the camera. Jason was in the centre-right, a woman to his left. The edges of the photo were worn, so the faces of the other two were basically unrecognizable, but the woman was clear enough.

Amy shrugged off Jake’s hand and sprinted to her computer, leaving a confused Jake behind. She scrolled through several files, before finding the right one: Case #343.

Jake had silently made his way behind her, seemingly weary at her change in demeanour.

“This is it. Our missing link.” She managed to say.

On her screen was the picture of a woman she had researched before. When Jake read her name, his eyes widened. He fumbled with his back pocket before dropping the postcard in front her.

“Monica Johnson.” He said, pointing to the  _ M  _ written on it. “That’s got to be her.”

“We have a lead.” Amy said, dropping her face on the desk. “We have a lead,” she kept mumbling, her voice laced with shock.

“We have got a lead.” Jake echoed, and sat down next to her, arms slung to his side.

_ We’re getting somewhere.  _ Amy thought.  _ Jason’s killer, whoever you are, I’m coming for you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and oh!! we have a chapter 1 flashback! it's all connected, folks.
> 
> thank you again to Les for editing everything and giving me all the feedback ever.
> 
> comments and kudos very appreciated!


	8. Do You Trust Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Jake follow Monica, and learn some interesting new information about Jason from Gina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS IS VERY MUCH UNEDITED, SO APOLOGIES FOR ANY GRAMMATICAL INCONSISTENCIES OR OTHERWISE BAD USE OF WORDS.

When Jake woke up the next day, he refused to open his eyes. He pulled his covers back up and shuffled around, only to fall on the floor. Confused and disoriented, he quickly put himself in a sitting position, trying to recognize his surroundings.

Things started to look vaguely familiar to him as the morning haze left him – a chair here, a white rag there – and he finally understood where he was.

He was sleeping on Amy’s couch. In her house.

The concept rummaged around his head for a good while, and it didn’t seem to make sense. When she’d invited him to have dinner last night, he was surprised, and didn’t exactly know if it was a good thing. Still, it was a gesture of good faith on her part, which made Jake feel like maybe he should do some legwork on their partnership.

Jake wanted to trust Amy, he really did. But he still held the postcard away from her until throwing it in front of the laptop the night before, in the excitement of the new information. She took a while to process the information and didn’t seem to be upset about it. She claimed she understood why he had done it, but Jake narrowed his eyes at that.

Amy never forgave a slip up that easily. She was probably planning some sort of a payback.

He shook his head and brought his hands to his head. _No, Jake. Maybe she just trusts you. Why can’t you just trust her back?_ He thought, but he knew the answer to that question already. He’d only been able to fully trust three people in his life, and his mom and Gina were from his childhood roots, so they didn’t count in his mind. Charles seemed to be the only outlier, but that’s probably because he clung onto him so much, Jake had no choice to give in.

But Amy? Amy had been a constant over the past decade, a _constant_ source of mistrust and suspicion. Wherever he went, she followed right behind (and, sometimes, even ahead of him), making his job hell. Joining efforts always seemed like such a farfetched… _thing,_ that working together made his brain rummage around in his skull, even though he was the one that suggested it in the first place.

Amy Santiago was going to be the bane of his existence. Whether it was going to be in a good or a terrible way, it was up in the air.

“Morning.” Jake heard her voice from behind him, and a cup holder appeared on the table next to him, followed by a steaming mug. “Thought you might need coffee.”

He lied down on the floor and looked at Amy, staring at her upside down. She was frowning, but it wasn’t any of the frowns he was used to seeing. It wasn’t malicious, it wasn’t tired, it wasn’t thoughtful, it just _was._

He was going to go crazy if he kept thinking about things like these. Channelling all of those thoughts into the deepest corners of his brain, he finally replied to her. “Thanks. I do need it.”

“Are you this childish in the mornings, or is it just your normal behaviour?” She shoved her feet under him, and he groaned but sat upright again, this time facing the table. Amy sat opposite to him, setting another cup holder in front of her but keeping the warm mug on her hands.

“Oh, I’m only childish next to you, Santiago.” He gave her a small smile, and she rolled her eyes, before sighing and bringing her face to her hand. Jake noticed she was already dressed, even though her hair was badly unkept, loose strands of it hanging around it like fragile branches swaying in the wind.

“Sorry I just…” She looked up at him again and took a deep breath, before drinking another gulp of (what Jake assumed was) her coffee. “I need to know something. I know it’s morning and it’s hard for you to think or whatever but…” Jake grabbed his mug and took a swig of it, thinking off all the things she could ask about.

“But?”

“Did you hide the postcard away from me intentionally?”

Jake was expecting it, but he flinched. He pretended it was from the coffee being hot and waved his hands around his mouth in a fake effort to bring it some fresh air.

“I know that trusting me… it’s not going to be easy but I’m trying, okay?”

The word “trust” echoed in the back of his head, reflecting off the walls and crashing dangerously onto the door he had just shut a while ago, those unbearable thoughts. Managing to push down what he was feeling again, Jake spoke up again. “It wasn’t on purpose. I can guarantee that.”

Amy analysed his face for a good while, before concluding that either what he said was true, or that it was true enough for her to accept it. She shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her mug, staring at the photos that stood in a neat pile on her table.

“When this is over, I’m burning those to a crisp.”

Jake stared at the pile then, memories of the night before flooding into him.

A deep dive into Monica’s life. An averagely active social presence. A call to Spoll to know more information. An awkward explanation of the ordeal and how he and Amy were working together, followed by a triumphant yell on the other end of the line. Jake staring at the fridge photo for what felt like hours, lying down on the couch. Feeling his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Amy trying to call his attention, but his consciousness slipping. And then, the morning.

“Did you cover me with a sheet while I was asleep?” He asked, remembering he fell asleep on the couch with nothing on top of him.

“It was a cold night.” She said, shivering as a justification. “And it feels like a colder morning.”

Jake cocked his head to the side, before his lips turning upwards. “You cared. Are you growing soft, Santiago?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up before I throw you out the window.”

* * *

After eating breakfast (Jake found Amy had a surprising number of cereal but, sadly, no orange soda to dip them in), he headed off to his house to shower and change. He managed to find a perfectly clean plaid shirt, with a blue and dark brown pattern, putting it on and throwing his PI badge around his neck, even though it was probably not a bad idea. The day was cold, seemingly a contrast to the yesterday, but Jake opted to not wear a hoodie, deciding that the shirt and a leather jacket was good enough.

All in all, he took an hour to reach his office building, even after rushing through New York traffic- When he reached his floor, he wasn’t surprised to see Amy’s door wide open, waiting for him to come inside.

When he knocked, Amy nearly jumped from her desk, focused on organising the folders on top of her desk.

“Jesus, that was fast.”

“Title of your sex tape.” Jake couldn’t help himself. “Yeah, I know, rule three, whatever.”

She invited him in and asked to close the door. He did so, sitting down in front of her.

“So,” She started, joining her hands together and setting them on the desk. Jake noticed her hair was a lot tidier, and she seemed to be wearing some make up. Amy looked, undeniably, pretty. “I dug up all the research on Monica I managed to find, and I don’t have that many good news.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I didn’t do that much research on her.” She sighed. “It was a typical case, so as soon as I caught her in an AA meeting, I stopped following her and just considered it closed.”

Jake nodded, already trying to think what their next move should be. “When was this meeting?”

“It was on a…” She searched through her papers before finding it. “Monday.”

Jake scratched his chin. “Were they weekly?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t really dig deep into the details. Most of cases like these…” She didn’t end her sentence.

Jake finished it for her. “They’re shallow.”

“Yeah.” She gave an approving nod. “That’s a really good word to describe them.”

“I have the ability to say some fancy words like…” He searched in his mind for one that sounded vaguely intellectual. “Hypothesis.”

“I wouldn’t really consider ‘hypothesis’ a fancy word, but fine.” She placed a piece of paper in front of him, and Jake soon realised it was an address, and continued the conversation. “The meeting’s only at ten PM, but I think there’s a way to track her through my vague notes.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you describe something you did as ‘vague’. Are you sure you’re okay, Santiago?” He brought his hand to her forehead, and immediately pulled back, acting as if her forehead was on fire.

Amy simply stared at him, an unamused look on her face. “I’m going to have that paper you signed yesterday notarized and you’re going to regret your existence.”

Jake raised his eyebrows, unable to tell if she was faking it or not. “Alright fine, I’ll tone it down a little.”

“You better tone it down a _lot._” She threatened, but it seemed like she was faking it this time.

They went over her findings on Monica, trying to find everything possible about her. Amy had found out her maiden name was Collins, and she seemed to have a solid routine – work, gym, go back home. She still had the address of the place she had returned to which, oddly enough, didn’t coincide with the address Spoll had given them. After some more research and a couple phone calls, they got were stuck again: that house didn’t appear to belong to anyone that either Jason or Monica knew.

In fact, Jason and Monica didn’t even appear to know each other at all.

There were no connections between them. They didn’t follow each other on social media, their schedules didn’t match at all from the limited information they owned. So, Jake and Amy did the logical next step, something that Jake didn’t really want to do.

“I hate stake-outs!” He groaned loudly, trying to convince Amy to do _anything _but that.

“It’s our only viable option.” Amy said, tapping the address in front of her, the place where Monica worked. “We follow her until she gets out of work, get a full picture of her routine.”

“That’s stalking.” Jake tried, one last time.

“Yeah, and?” She said, crossing her arms. “We’ve both done it before.”

“It’s boring?”

“Come on, Peralta!” She slammed her hands on the table, making him jump in his chair. “It’s ten AM. The day is going to slip by in an instant and before we know it she’ll be gone into her actual house.” Amy shook her head and apologized for scaring him. “Trust me on this.”

He looked at her for a while, trying to find more arguments to rebut her, but Amy made some valid points. He couldn’t deny it any longer, so he gave in with a sigh. “Fine. Under one condition.”

She cocked her head to the side. “What is it?”

He smirked. “I’m the DJ.”

Amy rolled her eyes and got up. “Then we’re using my car.”

“Fine by me.” He followed her, turning his badge upside down as to not see the glistening surface.

“You’re paying for the gas, though.”

“Hey!”

* * *

By lunch time, Jake was already bored out of his mind. He was bored before that, but now he was even more bored. Bored-er. Was that a word? He didn’t care, and he wasn’t about to ask Amy that.

After shuffling for the thousandth time in his seat, propping his feet on the dashboard and down again, making ten playlists (yes, he counted, _ten_) and screaming Taylor Swift in the car, she finally turned to look at him.

“God, Peralta, you’re going to drive me _insane_. Please stop for five minutes.”

“Stop what?”

“Everything.” She returned her attention to the office building, grabbing her binoculars and seemingly concentrated on her job. Jake knew better, though. He knew she was bored out of her mind as well. At least, he thought he knew.

“Let’s just go eat something.” He patted his belly, and she returned her attention to him. “Aren’t you starving?”

She squinted suspiciously, but after a waft of food drifted into her car through Jake’s open window, her stomach growled. He pointed towards it, and she admitted defeat.

“Fine, I guess I’m a _little_ hungry.”

“Street meat?” He suggested, pointing to a stand that was a few feet away from them.

“That’s so cliché.” Jake looked at her, expectantly. “But yeah, sure, let’s embody that trope fully.”

“It will be my honour.”

Jake couldn’t leave the car fast enough, jogging towards the stand as quick as he could. He kept an eye on the building where Monica worked at after ordering food. He was about to tear his sight away from it, when he spotted someone leaving through the back door, a door that lead to a non-descript alley. And that someone looked oddly similar to Monica.

He picked up their food and ran back towards the car, dropping it on his seat through the window and demanding the binoculars from Amy. She was bewildered at first but gave in to his demands quickly when he said he saw someone familiar leave through the back door.

Just as the figure was about to vanish, Jake zoomed in on it and saw them look back, getting a clear look of their face. It was Monica, alright, and she was sneaking off somewhere.

“I think it’s time for a foot chase.” He said to Amy, after handing back her binoculars.

“Shit.” She was halfway through a bite, and bits of her food fell through the barely wrapped aluminium onto her clothes. She opened the car door and rubbed them onto the floor, before staring back at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Basically one hundred percent right.” She didn’t seem convinced, so he added more. “Okay, like, ninety nine percent sure. Or, I don’t know, ninety nine point nine nine nine nine…”

“Yeah, I get the picture.” Amy interrupted him, and Jake was thankful for that. He didn’t know for how long he was going to say ‘nine’. “Pick up your things, we got a foot race to attend.”

Jake followed her orders and picked up his street meat, still hot inside the foil. He munched happily as they made their way across the street, through the Brooklyn haze.

* * *

The foot stalking (it was the term they both agreed on was best) went on for a long time. Jake and Amy tried to be casual about it, but Monica was walking for a long time, and she didn’t seem like she was going to stop anytime soon. They left Brooklyn and walked towards Manhattan, passing through the Brooklyn Bridge and seeing the World Trade Center, a blinding reflection of the city itself. Jake sometimes wondered what it would look like without it, but he didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Why is it so shiny?” He asked Amy, as they entered Manhattan.

“What?”

He pointed towards the building, and Amy looked at it for a while. They were a safe distance away from their target, enough to stop for a while and look at something.

“Glass.” She replied and started walking forwards again.

“Yeah but,” He caught up to her, shoving his hands inside his jacket. “glass doesn’t have to be that shiny.”

“Jake, it’s one PM. The sun is high on the sky, so _obviously_ every window in this city is going to be glistening like crazy.” Amy didn’t even turn to look at him, eyes bolted to the person they were following.

“Is that your way of talking dirty?” He put his hands on his neck, elbows up. “You have to improve that, Santiago.”

“My dirty talking is good enough!” She replied, before blushing. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Before Jake could say anything else, she brought a finger to his lips. “Rule three!”

He rolled his eyes but agreed to not do the obvious joke, and their conversation dropped. They walked in silence from that point on, and Jake took the chance to look around

He still hated Manhattan but, walking through it, he figured he understood the appeal. It was nice looking, that’s for sure, the skyscrapers making you crane your head up to appreciate their full, tall as hell, glory.

Nearly two hours passed after their initial discovery, and Monica made a sharp turn to enter a place that neither Jake nor Amy were expecting.

“Why is she going inside the Rockefeller Center at three in the afternoon?” Amy asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know, but I need to sit down urgently.” Jake slowly sat down on the curb, then immediately got up when a car sped by and nearly crushed his feet. “Let’s sit down inside, okay?”

She nodded, breathing heavily from the arduous task of walking through Brooklyn and half of Manhattan. It had been three hours, and Jake’s legs were complaining so much he was afraid if he sat down again, they would turn to lead, and he’d be forever attached to a bench. He was ready to face the odds, though.

They entered the rink area (which was, for Amy’s eternal relief, closed, so Monica wasn’t skating around like a lunatic in the early afternoon), and sat down on the first place they could see. Monica had gone inside, into the shops and amenities, and they were about to follow her.

“God, she walks a lot. Is this her lunch break?” Jake gasped for breath.

“That’s one big lunch break.”

Jake pursed his lips, and she stared at him for a good while.

“You can say it. I’m too tired to care.” She leaned forward and put her head between her hands, staring at the floor between her legs.

“That kind of saps the magic of it all.”

Amy lifted her head and looked at Jake. “That’s never stopped you before.”

He snapped his fingers. “You’re absolutely right. Title of your sex tape.”

“There it is!” She raised her hands as if celebrating. “Another childish joke by Jake Peralta, ladies and gentlemen!”

“It’s not childish! It’s hand crafted.”

“I don’t know how to reply to that.”

“My mind is too big for you?” He draped one of his arms over the bench, letting it swing back and forth.

She shook her head. “No, no it’s just… different.”

Jake sucked in air loudly. “That sounds like an insult.”

“It better have.” Amy said, but then laughed promptly. Jake joined her, chuckling a bit.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing, though! Honestly. You look at things in a really different way.”

“That’s trauma, baby.”

She punched him in the arm lightly. “Don’t say that!”

Jake was so tired he didn’t even react to being hurt. Instead, he leaned his head backwards and looked towards the sky, hoping to something that Monica would grab a cab back to Brooklyn, instead of walking all the way to her workplace. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to go through all that distance again.

Amy kept silent while he was thinking about nothing in particular, as if she had detected his tiredness. She seemed to be finetuned to his emotions, which was something he wasn’t sure he appreciated. Then again, had anyone ever been able to tell how he was feeling from just a glance?

Maybe she was just faking it, trying to get him closer to her until the inevitable bond broke after the case ended. There was a nagging part of his brain, however, this miniscule bit that kept insisting on something else.

_Maybe she just wants to spend time with you._

Jake found it ridiculous, of course, hence why he always took the time to shove that thought on the back of his head and shovel all the earth above it, like a funeral scene with a barely alive body being thrown into the dirt.

He’d been thinking _too _much the last couple of days, anyway.

Jake focused on the several stands dotting the place, trying to find the black hair that was recognizable as Monica’s, but to no avail. He felt that as soon as he had sat down, they had lost track of her.

“You think maybe she was onto us?” Amy asked, now more composed, her breathing steady.

“And walked two hours to dodge us?” Jake didn’t think that was a viable possibility.

“Yeah, you’re right… But it’s still weird. Why would she _walk_ to Midtown Manhattan only to have to go back to Brooklyn anyway?”

“Maybe she just wanted to…” Jake spotted her then, sunglasses on her face, walking next to a man. A man that looked like the person that was on the photo of a fridge he knew so well. “Meet up with someone.” He turned towards Amy and mumbled for her to look at eleven. She jerked her head to the left, seeing the same sight that Jake had.

“Shit. Is that…?”

Jake nodded. “Uh-huh. Mystery guy number two. Do you have your phone with you?”

She searched in her pockets and cursed. “Fuck, I only have my business phone with me.”

“Alright, my phone it is.” He quickly removed it out of his pocket and got up. “Come on, it’s time for a selfie.”

Amy was flustered for a second, before Jake clarified. “It’s the best way to catch a picture of him without being obvious. Join me in the frame now, will you?”

Amy joined him in the photo, putting her arms on his shoulder and dropping her head on them, trying to occupy the least amount of space possible. Jake pressed the snap button so many times, he was positive that half of the space available on his phone was now filled with pictures of them.

It also meant Amy was leaning on his shoulder for an uncomfortably long time, something that made him nervous, for some reason. It wasn’t exactly a bad type of nervous, though. What was it then? Jake wasn’t aware of any _good_ types of nervous.

His hand went to his mouth after Amy dropped from his shoulder, and he bit his nails unconsciously. She snapped him out of his reverie with a single line.

“Biting your nails gives you ulcers, you know.”

He rolled his eyes, but stopped chewing on his fingers. “Oh, drop it, Santiago.”

“Let’s just keep following her, shall we?” Amy pointed to where Monica and the man were going, before they vanished into a corner.

“Fine. But, for the record, I want all of these pictures printed out and framed.”

This time, Amy rolled her eyes.

* * *

Monica, fortunately, didn’t spend a lot of time with the man, opting to then take a cab to her workplace. Amy and Jake nearly sighed with relief, catching another cab that followed closely behind her, much to Amy’s concern.

“She’s going to notice we’re following her.” She whispered to Jake, to make the cab driver not listen in.

“We’ve been following her for hours now, I think she would’ve noticed the same two people at this point. Besides, we’re not exactly the most subtle of people around.”

“Subtlest.” She corrected, and Jake gave her a death stare. “Sorry, it’s instinct!”

“You have some weird instincts, Santiago.” He teased.

The rest of the drive was quiet, and Jake looked as Manhattan turned into Brooklyn once again. Glad to finally be on his own turf, he and Amy split the bill of the cab between them and watched as Monica entered the building once again.

“Guess we’ve got to wait again, huh?” Jake asked, looking at Amy. But she was looking at her phone, typing something in it, only managing to reply with a half-hearted “hm”.

That was when his phone rang, and he picked it up without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“I think I’ve got the information you wanted. There’s this abandoned industrial complex on Sunset Park, near the… you where the FedEx is?” It was Gina, and she didn’t waste any time on going to the details

“Not really, but I can find out.” He crossed his arms and turned his back to Amy, trying to keep the conversation private.

“Okay, it _seems _to be abandoned, but over these two nights I’ve intel that there’s always some guard patrolling the place. I found it a bit suspicious, since Jason technically owns it.”

“He _owns _an abandoned industrial complex?” He was shocked at first, but then remembered who he was. “Right, he’s rich. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Honestly, you should be surprised. My research through his life shows an incredibly bland investment trail, all safe things that keep you wealthy, not making you wealthier. Sure, it wouldn’t surprise me if he wanted to remain with his level of money, but he’s young. There’s bound to be some dumb investments, and I’ve found not even one stupid decision. Something didn’t feel right, so I pulled some strings and found out about this industrial complex. Apparently,” She shuffled through some papers on her end of the line. “He bought it two years ago, and left it to disarray.”

“Then why would he hire someone to keep watch on it?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing he’s hiding something in there.” She said.

“Something he doesn’t want us to find out.” Jake completed. “Alright text me the address, me and Amy are bound to check it out after this.”

“You and Amy?”

“Yeah, we’re working together. It’s a long story but I stole her photos and then she saved my life.”

“I’m sorry wha–”

“Sorry, gotta go, bye!” Jake hung up quickly and turned around to see Amy facing him, hands on her hips.

“Who was that?” She asked, clearly suspicious.

“It was Gina, with some brand-new intel.”

He quickly told her the intel, to which she just nodded along. He couldn’t help but feel some resistance coming off from her, though he really couldn’t judge why she felt like that. He didn’t inspire much confidence, to either himself or others.

“So, this factory, where is it?”

“She’s sending me a text with the address, but technically it’s near the FedEx on Sunset Park?”

Amy’s eyes widened, realisation dawning on her face. “I know what she’s talking about.”

“So, what’s our next step here?” he pointed towards the building Monica was working. “Do we wait for her or do we head there straight away?”

Amy thought about it for a second, then answered. “I say we follow Monica until her home, then find out way into the factory. We’re bound to be more hidden in the cover of night than during the daytime.”

Her logic seemed airtight. “Boring stake out it is, then.”

They got back into her car, and she asked if he had any snacks around. Jake puffed and said that if it was his car, there were bound to be something around, to which Amy replied that she had seen the inside of his car, and if he ate anything from it she may as well have to call the CDC. Then she had to explain what CDC meant (Centre for Disease Control), ruining her, admittedly lame, joke. He laughed as a courtesy, however.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly like that, goofing off until the sun set, and the streetlamps flickered to life. They shared a lot of things that Jake never expected to share. He guessed that most people knew he had daddy issues (to put it lightly, Gina and Charles told him he talked about it constantly), but he found himself flowing it out of him naturally, rather than as an excuse for something.

And Amy seemed to understand, even if she never had any issues like his. Sure, her parents seemed super controlling (and honestly, a bit terrifying), but they formed her into the woman she was today, and she seemed grateful for it. Even if, sometimes, she wanted to be a bit looser.

“You’re kidding right?” Jake has moved to the back seat and was lying down on the chairs. Amy had put the driver’s seat all the way back, so both could see the street in case Monica came around. “We’re going to break into a factory tonight! How can you get be more loose than that?”

“Looser.” She corrected. “But still, that’s… part of the job. It’s not like I’ve ever turned without signalling.”

“You’ve never turned without signalling?”

Amy was quiet for a while, and Jake stared at her profile, half covered in shadow from the light on the streets.

“No.” She finally said, quietly.

“Well, that can be arranged.” He pointed out to a familiar silhouette inside of a car. “That’s Monica right there.”

He propped himself up and jumped to the front seat and, at the same time, Amy put her seat up. She started the car and started following it. Jake took the time to register the license plate on his phone, to ask Spoll later the maximum amount of details she could get on the car.

When Monica turned on a corner, Amy was about to signal when Jake put his hand on the dashboard.

“Come on,” He said. “Be looser.”

She sighed, letting her left hand drop and turning without the green arrow blinking on the dash.

“I did it!” She yelled. “I actually did it!”

“How do you feel?”

“Terrible, actually, but I don’t mind. I broke a rule!”

He smiled at her, and she didn’t turn to look at him, focused on following their target. She was smiling, though, and it was enough for him.

Amy carefully drove through the streets of New York, the radio the only thing breaking their comfortable silence.

* * *

After writing down Monica’s _real _address, Amy and Jake made their way back to their offices, to collect some gadgets. Jake picked up some of his camouflaged spy cams and Amy some of her high-end bugs, and soon they were on their way back to the streets. After arguing on which car to bring, they ate dinner and then headed to his car, driving to the address Gina had sent Jake a couple hours before.

They arrived there at about 9PM, which was a bit early for Jake’s taste.

“I think we should stay put.” He said. “Wait until it’s later and then break into the place.”

Amy shook her head. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I don’t like going into a surveilled place, especially if it has cameras and can catch our faces.”

“About that…” Jake rummaged around in the back seat and brought up two ski masks. “Our identities can be covered, so the police can’t track us.”

Amy rolled her eyes, but took the one that was on his left hand. “Alright, but you’re just giving me more reasons to go in right now.”

“The later it is, the better our odds.” He tried convincing her one last time. “Plus, we can track down the guards’ routine, as mind numbingly boring as that sounds.”

She brought her hand to her chin, as if thinking about what he had said. “Okay, that’s actually kind of smart. We’ll do it your way, then. Survey and be patient.”

“Never thought those words would be matched with me.” Jake admitted.

“Yeah, same here.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but inside he was thinking that it was, in fact, quite out of character for him. Maybe she was rubbing off on him in all the wrong ways. And she seemed to be more impulsive, so maybe _he _was rubbing off on _her _in all the right ways, and-

_God, this sounds like one of Charles’ metaphors. _He thought. _I’ve got to find another for affecting each other. Hey! Affecting works._

He spent most of the surveillance time like that, thinking to himself about cool one liners and punch lines, ignoring most of the guards coming and goings. Meanwhile, Amy seemed to be taking extensive notes on her phone, pulling up a satellite picture of the abandoned factory and drawing up possible routes, erasing them and redoing them when the guards seemed to use different routes. She also added schedules, which, after a few hours, seemed more like a spreadsheet than a simple table.

At around 11PM, the guards rotation seemed to slow down, and both seemed to be able to pick out good openings to go inside.

“There’s that window over there – you see it?” He pointed to a window that was broken, a space that seemed enough for one person to fit through without breaking more of the glass. “I think we can fit through there.”

Amy shook her head, but it wasn’t in denial. “I just wish we could’ve taken a quick tour of the place, but it’s so well lit.” She looked at the place he was pointing at. “Yeah, I think that’s our only viable option.”

Jake looked at the clock on his phone. “Funny.” He mumbled.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Oh, it’s the last day of September, is all.”

“Well, soon it’ll be October, so snap out of it and let’s get going.”

He nodded and put his phone back in his pocket, sliding the ski mask on his head, Amy doing the same.

His gun was tightly strapped against his hip, unlike Amy’s, which was on her thigh. He never asked why he carried it there, but he guessed everyone had their own way of being.

After the guard turned the corner, Jake and Amy sprinted through the courtyard of the abandoned factory, keeping themselves in shadow. Amy reached the window first, and hoisted herself up onto it, managing to slide right through into what seemed to be the basement of the building. Jake wasn’t as graceful, stumbling at the last possible moment and falling on the ground with a loud thud.

Amy looked at him, frozen in place. Jake was lying on the floor, not daring to move. After a few minutes, no one came to bother them, so he assumed they were in the clear and stood up. Careful not to step on any of the broken glass shards on the floor, Jake made his way over to Amy’s location.

“Subtle, huh?” She whispered.

“Let’s just get out of here.” He answered.

She nodded and looked around for any exits out of the place. Jake found it odd that it was mostly made of wood, apart from the pillars holding the structure of the place, that were pure metal. It was a wide space, with a tall ceiling, taller than the place where the window they jumped from was located. They made their way through it, finding a dimly lit set of stairs that lead up to a closed door.

“Let’s hope it’s not locked.” Jake said, and tried the handle on it, after climbing the unbearably creaky wooden staircase.

“If someone’s on the other side of the door I wouldn’t be surprised. This shit sure knows how to make some loud noises.” Amy frowned, after adjusting her feet and the wood complained once again.

The door swung open, and Jake almost fell on the floor, clearly not expecting to give in so easily. He found himself in a brightly lit hallway, with white walls and white floor tiles.

“What the–” He started, but stopped himself halfway. He didn’t know if anyone was listening.

Amy looked at him expectantly, her stare almost saying “Is the coast clear?”

Jake looked around, finding no one nearby. On his right, the hallway continued forwards but, on his left, it had T-junction. He looked back at Amy and nodded, closing the door behind her after she passed the threshold.

He pointed to the two ways, and Amy motioned her head towards the junction, so they made their way there, their feet quietly squeaking on the (had it been recently cleaned?) floor. After reaching the crossroads, Jake motioned to the left, gluing himself to the wall. Amy did the same with the wall on the right, and they both peeked around the corner to see if anyone was around.

Surprisingly, no one was around, which made Jake’s gut start to churn. Why was there no one around? Something didn’t feel right.

“We sure are lucky today.” Amy whispered, after getting back to his side.

“Yeah.” He replied, not really listening to her. “Lucky.”

They first went to the hallway on the left, only to be met by a grey door that wouldn’t budge. Amy tried her skill with lockpicking, but it broke and they didn’t dare try again. Turning around and exploring the other side, they made their way forwards towards an L-shaped hall, which opened into a square room with at least four doors.

“What the fuck is Jason hiding?” Amy whispered.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like this. Maybe we should turn bac–”

His voice was drowned out by a small, nearly inaudible whipping noise. A noise that both Jake and Amy recognized, but for all the wrong reasons.

They stared at each other, the same realisation dawning on their minds.

_It’s a silenced gun._ Jake thought, and knew Amy had thought of the same.

They didn’t even try to budge the doors that were ahead of them, thinking it was plain suicide to go after the shooter. Instead, they turned back and made their way back to the basement door, trying to get back to his car.

“Shit!” Amy whisper-shouted, trying to open the door. “It won’t budge!”

By this point, Jake had his gun out of its strap and pointed at the junction in the hall, not even looking back at her. “Try kicking it!”

“That’ll make so much noise! Let’s just get out of here some other way!”

“What other way?”

Jake heard a door open and close, some nonchalant footsteps walking. The sound grew louder and louder, and he did the one thing he promised himself not to do, ever: Jake started panicking a bit.

They were cornered, the only direction possible a hallway that went forwards for a long time, or facing the person that had been, most likely, killing people with a silenced gun. People only used guns like that for one reason, Jake had found out. They wanted to kill and never be found out. Whoever was here had either gotten what they came from or were still searching. Either case, they were going to be shot down on sight.

He could still hear the sounds of Amy struggling with the door, and he slowly walked backwards towards her, the footsteps echoing louder.

“Amy.” He said, tugging on her jacket. She stopped struggling, and the two holes through her mask showed her eyes, and she seemed to be crying. He offered his hand and, at first, she was confused. “Run.” He said, and she immediately grabbed it.

They ran, hand in hand, through the long hallway that was in their backs. Faster and faster they went, with no end in sight. Why was the hallway so _long?_ There didn’t seem to be an end to it, only grey doors that appeared periodically on the walls.

It didn’t take long for the whizzing of bullets to start from behind them, and they ducked their heads in the hopes of not getting shot by this madman. Jake even threw some blind shots behind him, hoping it would slow the man down so they could escape. Amy was in front of him, now, and she was running faster than he could handle (God, he was really in bad shape, wasn’t he?).

She did a sharp turn left, however, and it caught him off guard. While trying to adjust his speed, his right foot slid and he felt it drag across the floor.

“Wait!” He said to her. “Hold on!”

She stopped and stared at him, her face still covered by the black mask. “I think… I think I sprained my foot.”

“Shit.” She muttered under her breath. Jake leaned against the wall and slid against the floor. This was it, for real this time.

“Just… run. Get out of here. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

“Jake, I’m not leaving you behind. I…” She looked around, seemingly looking for a way out. Taking out her ski mask, she crouched down and held his hands. “Do you trust me?”

He didn’t know if he did. He didn’t know if he could trust anyone, ever. Memories flashed back from all the times she’d tried to snatch cases from him, all the times she showed coldness instead of any sort of heat. But did that really matter?

“I… I do. I trust you.” He said, as if settling an invisible deal between them.

“Good. I’m sorry for this.” She took out his ski mask and, while he felt the air on his face, Jake saw Amy point her gun at him.

And fire it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, tell me what you think!


End file.
